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Edited and arranged forjpublication from the well-knl^ 
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••Luke Sclioolcraft" and "George Goes" are too \rpll known 
Nt-gro Minstrelsy to require comment, and the following select? 
ailiiiirable repertory of pieces have no need of other reconinieni 
wi>o has seen these artists in any of the following list of sketcr 
aiice of their humor and good acting quality. Twelve are now r4 
will follow as the demand arises. ,' 

Mrs. Didymus* Party. In One Scene. Two mi 
Scene, a plain room. An immensely humorous/ 
twenty minutes. / 

Music vs. Elocution. In One Scene. Two if 
Scene, a plain room. Always verv popular. Plays^ 

Mistaken Identity. In One Scene. Eight male 1 
characters. Can be played in "white face" if d" 
fifteen minutes. ' 1 

Oh, Well. It's No Use. In One Scene. Three m 
A very funny sketch, full of genuine darkey h 
twenty minutes. 

Here She Goes, and There She Goes. In Or 
male and one female characters. An uproariousl 
of great popularity. Plays twenty-five minutes. I 
Finished Education. A Pinale for th*e "TO 
Minstrel Entertainment. Three speaking character 
of scene. - / 

Slack Blunders. In Two Scenes. Nine males an(^ 
Scenei*y simple; costumes eccentric. Very livelj 
jPlays twenty-five minutes. i 

vjae Old Parson. A " First Part Finish " for a j^ 
tainment. Six speaking characters. No change of i 

Sublime and Ridiculous. In One Scene. Three m^ . .IS. 

Scenery -and costumes very simple. A sure hit for a go arlesque 
^•omedian. Plays twenty minutes. 

njveryday Occurrences. A "First Part Finish" for a Minstrel 
Entertainment. Three speaking characters. No change of scene. 

"J idly Sold. In Two Scenes. Four male characters and supers. 
A very funny piece. Can be played "white face" with equally 
good effect. Plays twenty minutes. 

Dur Colored Conductors. In Two Scenes. Three male char- 
acters and ten supers. This is an uproariously funny " skit " and a 
sure hit. Plays twenty minutes. 



Catalogues describing the above and other popular entertainments 
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THE BOHEMIANS 



PS 635 
■Z9 CSS 
Copy 1 



A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



E. J. COWLEY 



Vn-'^ 



^1'>'" 



CU^/iJ-f 



BOSTON 






1896 



h\ 



^,S\ 



"Py^ 




THE BOHEMIANS. 



CHARACTERS. 

Jack Brandt Ajt Artist. 

Noel Blake A Composer. 

Jim Dale A Sculptor. 

Geo. Smiley A Musician. 

Major Wrangle An Adventurer. 

Freddie Sproul An Art Sttident. 

Bertie Follet An Exquisite. 

Sam A Sei-vant. 

Madge Hardy A71 Orphan. 

Mrs. Van Slick A Lady of Fashion. 

Blanche Van Slick Her Daughter. 

Mrs. Kennet A Governess. 

Van A St. Bernard Dog, 

Costumes Modern. 




Copyright, 1896, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 



1MPS2-00895C 



THE BOHEMIANS, 3 

COSTUMES. 

Jack. — Velvet coat and vest, dark pants. vSame throughout the 
play, but very poor and seedy in the last act. 

Noel. — ist Act. — Same as Jack. 2d Act. — Stylish summer suit. 
^d Act. — Dark suit, tall hat, etc. 

Major Wrangle. — Stylish suit, changing with the acts. 

Dale AND Smiley. — ist Act. — Stylish suits. 2d Act. — Outing suits. 
^d Act. — Stylish suits. 

Freddie Sproul. — ist Act. — Velvet coat and vest. 2d and ^d Acts. 
— Dark suit. 

Bertie Follet. — Foppish dress. 

Sam. — Dark suit, white vest. 

Madge. — ist Act. — Gray dress. 2d Act. — Stylish summer gown. 
jd Act. — Stylish winter gown, which she changes to first dress. 

Mrs. Van Slick and Miss Blanche.— Stylish throughout play. 

Mrs. Kennet. — Simple costume. 



PROPERTIES. 

Act 1ST. — Table, chairs, piano, bouquet, easel, sketches, pictures, 
newspaper, basket of strawberries, rolls of music, money. 

Act 2D. — Gun to be loaded, picnic lay-out, sketch-book and pencil. 

Act 3D. — Same as act first, with the addition of champagne for 
Sproul and the dog. 



4 THE BOHEMIANS. 

PRINTING. 

The following stand and window printing, advertising this play, may 
be had of the houses named below. We do not carry this J>rinting in 
stock nor furnish it. 



GREAT WESTERN SHOW PRINT. 


511 


Market St 


., St. Louis, Mo. 




Three 


Sheets. 


No. 


154, suitable for Bertie Follet. 


" 


290, 


" Noel Blake. 


" 


1 53. 


" Smiley. 


" 


291, 


" Beresford. 


« 


481, 


" Jack. 


Half 


Sheet Window Lithographs. 


Nos. 1 1 68, 


1014, 1024, 


404, 850, 468, and 496. 



EMPIRE SHOW PRINT. 
75 Plymouth Place, Ch/cago. 
Three Sheets. 
No. 82, suitable for Second Act. 
" 94, " " Madge. 

*' loi, " " Blanche. 

" 107, " " Noel and Madge. 

" 134, " " Madge. 

CENTRAL SHOW PRINT, CHICAGO. 
No. 184, suitable for Dale. 
" 183, " " Mrs. Van Slick. 



THE BOHEMIANS. 



ACT I. 

Scene. — Jack Brandt's studio. A plain room. Wijidow r. 
C. in flat J door L. C, also R. and L. id a7id ^^ entrance. 
Piatto up stage L. Table at window in flat. Easel with 
unfinished picture R. i E. Pictures and sketches around 
room; work basket on table. Music for (urtain. Stage 
discovered empty at rise. Knock outside twice. Then 
Freddy Sproul////^ his head in l. c. and looks around ; 
enters cautiously ; has a large bouquet of flowers in his 
ha?td. 

Fred, {looking around). She is not here ! Good ! For I 
can now leave my bouquet without any tear of being found out. 
(Puts bouquet on table.) I wonder if she ever suspects where 
they come from ? Sometimes I almost hope she does. But no, 
I am sure she has not the slightest idea. For when she meets 
me, she holds out her hand so carelessly and says, " Good- 
morning, Mr. Sproul," so calmly, that she throws me down into 
the lowest depths of despair again. Twice this week have I 
screwed my courage up to the sticking point in order to tell her 
how much I love her, but when she turned her great limpid 
eyes upon me, blow me if I couldn't feel all of my courage ooze 
out at the tips of my fingers again. (Starts.) I've got an idea. 
(Looks around a?td takes picture out of his pocket.) Here is a 
small portrait of myself that I have just painted, and I will just 
place it here in the bouquet [business of putting picture in 
bouquet) and let it speak for me. There, I have done it at last 
(Madge sings outside), and here she is coming now. {Comes 
down.) Lord ! how my heart does beat. 

[^Entrance music for Madge, who enters quickly L.c, with 
a basket of strawberries on her arm. Places basket 
on table ; speaks while takifig off hat and wraps. 
Madge. Ah ! Good-morning, Mr. Sproul. 

5 



6 THE BOHEMIANS. 

Fred, {confused and stammers in speech). Goo — goo — good- 
morning, M — M — Miss Hardy. {Aside.) Just the same as 
usual. \Goes down R. i E. 

Madge {goes to table ; prepares to pick over her straw- 
berries j speaks during preparations). Waiting to see Jack, I 
suppose. I am very sorry that he is not in. {Draws chair , seats 
herself with her side to audience, and begins work on berries.) 
He has gone to inquire about poor Mr. Warner, who, you 
know, is lying very ill at his home ; but I expect him back now 
'most any moment. You don't mind my going on with my 
.vork, do you, Mr. Sproul ? You see, Noel has not got up yet, 
but he will be wanting his breakfast when he does rise, so 1 
wish to have those strawberries ready for him. You don't 
mind, do you ? [^Laughingly. 

Fred, {in a confused manner). Why, no — of course. Miss 
Madge. That is — 1 mean — oh, yes, go right on. Don't mind 
me. (Aside.) I wish I had that picture back again. 

Madge. Are you having a holiday, Mr. Sproul .? 

Fred. Oh, no. Why did you ask that.'* 

Madge. Oh, for nothing in particular. I only imagined 
you must be taking a holiday, else you would not be around so 
early. 

Fred. No ! Well — that is — you see, Miss Madge, the matter 
was I could not sleep ; I had a bad toothache all night long, so 
I thought I'd take a walk, and as I was passing 1 just looked in. 

Madge {reproachfully). Oh ! But you are losing the best 
hours of the morning, and that is such a pity. I thought you 
were determined to l3ecome a great artist, like Jack ; and how 
can you do that unless you work hard ? Jack, you know, is 
never idle. 

Fred. That is quite true, Miss Madge ; and yet he does not 
seem to make much progress with his great picture up there. 
[Points to picture on wall L., and crosses over and exam- 
ines it at conclusion of speech. 

Madge {turning and looking at it). Ah, true, the poor fel- 
low. \Spoken sadly. 

Fred, {examining picture). "Cleopatra Awaiting the Com- 
ing of Octavius," I believe he calls it, and {laughing) by the 
looks of things she seems to have been waiting a long, long 
time. Why, the picture is actually smothered with dust. 

Madge [spirited). And all because I am not tall enough to 
reach it, and Jack will not allow me to stand upon a chair for 
fear I might fall and hurt myself. {Spoken more sadly.) And 
when I speak to him about finishing it, he only laughs and says 
it can afford to wait. You see it takes all of his time painting 
those little sketches — pot-boilers, he calls them — in order to get 
money enough to run the house ; and so, you see, in the mean- 



THE BOHEMIANS. 7 

time his great picture, of which he used to dream so fondly, re- 
mains there, forgotten and unfinished. 

^Bows her head on table. 

Fred, {crossing quickly). There, there, Miss Madge, please 
don't feel so badly about it. I didn't mean anything like that 
when I spoke. I don't wish to cast a slur upon dear old Jack. 
Now, don't cry any more ; and please say that you will forgive 
me, for, 'pon my honor, I didn't mean anything. 

Madge (drying her eyes). I am sure you didn't. {Rises. ^ 
And there is my hand. {Offers hand, tvhich Fred, takes.) I 
feel a little bit nervous this morning. But don't mind me ; and 
now that I have my strawberries all picked, Noel can get up as 
soon as he pleases. {Is crossing to L.; noise outside j she 
turtts and runs to door L. c.) And here comes Jack now, I 
believe. {^Opens door, L. c. 

Enter Smiley and Dale. 

Smiley. Good-morning, Miss Madge. Can we come in ? 

Madge. Why, certainly. Come right along. 

\They both point at Fred., who is down R.; then both go 
down, one on each side of hint, slap him on the back 
and grasp his hands. Business ad libitum. 

Smiley and Dale {together). What, old chappie ! Delighted 
to meet you. 

Madge. Oh, boys, please don't make such a noise. Noel is 
asleep. 

Smiley and Dale {run up towards back, L., with Fred, be- 
tween them). Then we will wake him up. 

Madge {stopping them). Oh, no ; you mustn't do that, for 
you know it always makes him cross and irritable to rouse him 
from his sleep in that manner, and then you know how very sen- 
sitive he is. 

Dale. Oh, yes, we know, and for your sake. Miss Madge, we 
will not disturb his dreams, more especially when a fellow has 
such dreams as he does. 

Smiley (w//f? has been examining picture on walll..). I say, 
Dale, old man, come here and look at this. By Jove, how it 
progresses. How hard the old boy does work. 

Madge. That makes the second time this morning that Jack's 
picture has been held up to ridicule for his lack of industry. 
But, you see. Jack's work is for the present, not for the future. 

Dale. There, Miss Madge, you are down upon us like a ton 
of brick. We really did not mean to underrate Jack's good 
intentions. Now, I confess that I am a lazy, idle fellow myself; 
but, really, what is the use of one killing one's self in these 
degenerate days of taste in art ? Now, why did I leave my 
sculptor's studio ? Was it for lack of patronage ."* Oh, no ; but 



8 THE BOHEMIANS. 

because the people who came to see me insisted upon my 
accomplishing the most absurd things. I must straighten this 
one's nose, I must give that one an eye for the one it had lost, 
and I must put the face of a Greek god in the place of the one 
brought me to work from, which, perhaps, was so ugly that it 
gave you a pain in the face to look at it. Now, for instance, 
suppose that Fred. Sproul there should order a bust of himself. 
What on earth could I do with such material ? 

[Crosses R. to Fred.; business. 

Smiley. And as for me. Miss Madge, when I offered my 
compositions to a brainless public, they failed to understand 
either my music or my lines or the message which they intended 
to convey. Thus things went on until I was actually reduced 
to a state bordering upon beggary ; until one day Dale came into 
my rooms, where I was hard at work upon a new composition, 
and throwing down a bundle of doggerel rhymes upon the 
table, said to me, "Smiley, old man, I have a bright idea. I 
have thrown down the sculptor's mallet and chisel forever. You 
have always praised my singing powers and have urged me to 
go on the stage. I have at last made up my mind to follow 
your advice. Compose for me some light, catchy music to those 
verses that I have written myself, and I will make you immortal." 

Dale. And most nobly have I kept my word, for to-day our 
songs are sung by stage artists all over the world, and in every 
music store you will find our compositions, whilst in the homes 
of the rich and poor alike our names are household words. 
And that brings us to the object of our visit here this morning. 
We have just completed a new three-act comic opera, and know- 
ing your talent as a singer and also your eagerness to find some- 
thing to do that will help lighten Jack's load of care, we wish to 
make some arrangements with you, if possible, to play the lead- 
ing role in the first presentation of the piece next month. 

Madge. Oh, I am so grateful to you both for your kindness. 
But you know that while, thanks to Noel, I am in your estima- 
tion good enough to trust the leading singing role to, I know 
nothing about acting. 

Smiley. So much the better. The less you know about a 
thing nowadays the better you are appreciated. 

Dale. Oh, no. Miss Madge, you possess a charm more potent 
with the public, and to which it pays a much higher tribute 
nowadays than it does to the art of acting. 

Madge. And what is that, pray ? 

Smiley. First, a pleasing and well-cultivated voice. 

Dale. A very pretty face. 

Smiley. Third and last, but by no means least — in fact, it is 
the most potent of all the other charms you possess put together 
— you have an elegant figure. 



THE BOHEMIANS. ^ 

Bale. And you know the music as well as we do, for it is 
simply a different arrangement of our oldest songs. And now, 
while Jack is away, just let us run through a few of the num- 
bers. We can press Fred into service also for this occasion. 
[Business ad libitum then introduced. 

Smiley {after specialties are ended). Bravo ! It couldn't 
be better, Madge ; you are a regular daisy. {^Goes to table, 
picks up and smells bouquet ; discovers picture.) Ah, what a 
lovely bouquet. What is this — some new admirer, Miss 
Madge ? \All look at it. 

Fred, {down r., nervously j aside). Oh, Lord ! I am done 
for now, sure. 

Madge. Oh, no ; I never saw it before. What can it be .? 

Dale {who has come down to Fred.). Rash youth, what 
have you done ! If Jack should discover your penchant 

Jack {outside). Come here, you rascal ! 

Dale {ci-ll turn). And here he comes now. 

Jack {outside ; speaks to dog while Madge has door partly 
open. At conclusion of the speech, Madge throws door open 
and Jack enters). Lie down there, you rascal, and don't leave 
that spot. Remember you have an appointment with me at two 
o'clock. I want you to sit for me. 

Enters ; Madge cliftgs to him and helps hi7n to 
remove his coat while he speaks. 

Jack. Hello, Smiley ! {Shakes hands.) And Dale, old 
boy, how goes it with you ? {Sajne business ; going to 
Madge.) And how is my little busy bee ? Still working, I 
suppose ? 

Madge. Not very hard, Jack. But tell me, how did you 
find poor Warner } 

Jack. Much better ; and the babies have all had a good 
breakfast from the basket you sent them, dear. So now I can 
get to my work with an easy mind. {Arranges easel.) Well, 
Smiley, where are you and Dale off to this fine morning ? 

[Takes off coat ajid puts on blouse. 

Dale. Oh, we thought we would take a short trip on the 
river, and called to get Noel to go with us, when, lo and behold, 
we find that he is asleep. 

Jack {at easel). Well, then, let him sleep. He says his best 
ideas come to him while he sleeps. Now, why not take Sproul 
with you instead ? {Going up to table.) He never seems to 
me to have anything in particular to do. {Picks tip picture.) 
Hello, Madge, what have we here ? 

Smiley. That is just what we were trying to find out when 
vou came in. Whose head is it ? 



lO THE BOHEMIANS. 

Jack {looking hard at Freddy Sproul). Are you sure it is 
a head ? I think it must be intended for a landscape. 

[All laugh ; Fred, is annoyed. 

Dale. Well, Smiley, after that we might as well be off. 
Come, Sproul. 

Fred. Really, now 

^WltIgj (grasps hifn). No excuses; you have got to come. 
Good-morning, Miss Madge. Same to you, old man. 

Dale. And if we have but succeeded in making our amateur 
artist here thoroughly unhappy, we feel that we have not wholly 
wasted an idle hour. [Exeunt C, with Fred. 

Enter "Noel from room l. 3 e., yawning. 

Madge {confused). Oh, Noel, I hope those noisy fellows did 
not disturb you. But I forgot for the time that you were asleep. 

Noel. That pair are such fools, kicking up such a row at 
this hour. [Sits at piano. 

Jack {at easel). Hello, Noel, up already ? 

Noel. Well, and why shouldn't I be up as well as you ? 

Jack. Why not, to be sure .^ But then, you see, you are not 
obliged to profit by the daylight for your work, as I am, or to 
get breakfast like our little busy bee there. He is in one of his 
dejected moods this morning ; give him a scolding, Madge. 

Madge {rising). I smell the coffee boiling, so I will give him 
his breakfast first, so as not to take an unfair advantage of him. 
{Gives him paper.) Here is the paper, and I will have your 
breakfast ready in a few moments. [Exit R. 3 E. 

Jack {looking after her). Bless her bright face ! It is not 
for nothing that she lives so near the sun in this dingy attic up 
here. 

Noel. Say, Jack, did you ever hear of an eccentric individual 
named Gale ? 

Jack. Never. Why ? 

Noel. He is dead ; that is all. Here is what is in this morn- 
ing's paper. {Reads.) " The musical world has sustained a 
serious loss in the sudden death of Mr, Wm. Gale, one of the 
most ardent and eccentric amateurs in this country." 

J'ack. A musical amateur, eh ? One chance the less for 
you, old boy, more's the pity. 

Noel. But what a windfall for his heirs ! {Reads.) " The 
fortune of the deceased is estimated at one-half a million of dol- 
lars. He was unmarried, and leaves no one but distant rela- 
tives to mourn his loss." {Throws down paper and comes 
down L.) By Jove ! what luck some people do have. 

Jack. True, my boy ; you and I, for instance. 

Noel. You and I ! Surely you do not consider yourself 
lucky. 



THE BOHEMIANS. II 

Jack. Don't I ? Indeed, then, but I do ; and why not ? 
Now, in the first place, I have the honor of being an honest 
man. 1 neither bother my head about politics or the money 
market ; I don't go into society ; and the crowning point of all 
is, I am the intimate friend of the great composer, Noel Blake ; 
and now what more could I wish tor ? 

Noel. Money ! [Si/s on stool at piano. 

Jack. Money ! Why, haven't we got money ? There is 
five dollars still in the bank, to say nothing of a quarter or so 
still in my vest pocket. Money, indeed ! You young Sardana- 
palus ! 

Noel {rises). Oh, it's all very well. Jack, for you to make 
light of our poverty ; but you cannot imagine my feelings when 
I think that I am living off your scanty earnings ; that I am 
actually forced to accept your bounty. [Bows head on piano. 

Jack. Yes ; there you go again ! What a great creature I 
am to be sure ; a regular paragon of friendship. That is all 
understood, so don't say any more about it. 

Noel. I tell you I can't help it. Don't I see you wasting 
your life and your talents day by day in the useless task you 
have undertaken ? Do you think I am deceived by your careless 
tone ? Haven't I heard you sigh time and again when your 
eyes have turned wearily from those pot-boilers and tallen upon 
the sketch of your great picture over there ? The one dream of 
your life, for the fulfilment of which you can never find time. 
And what, if after all this great and useless sacrifice on your 
part, the greater artist of us two should turn out to be yourself. 

Jack {rises from easel, comes C, and while talking, draws 
out and lights pipe). The old story, my lad. Now, the whole 
thing in a nutshell is simply this : There were two empty 
purses between us, and we joined them together and made one 
out of them. You couldn't make a decent living for yourself 
and your cousin Madge by your music pupils, and yet they ab- 
sorbed all of the time that might be given to some great compo- 
sition. I was compelled every now and then to leave the pic- 
ture over there upon which I was working for one of those little 
commercial transactions you are pleased to call pot-boilers, 
and neither of us seemed to advance one step. 

Noel. Yes, I know all that, but 

Jack. Well, I looked the matter square in the face, and I 
said to myself: Noel and I have a wall to climb ; the ladder is 
long and the wind is high ; if we both mount together, the 
ladder will break. Let Noel go up first, whilst I hold the lad- 
der steady against the wall, and when he has reached the top in 
safety, he can lend me a helping hand in return, 

Noel. Well, thanks to your holding the ladder, as you call 
it, I have found time to write a symphony which you pronounce 



12 THE BOHEMIANS. 

great, and have offered it to the Philharmonic Society for pro- 
duction ; and though it has been in their hands now for over 
three months, they have not condescended to give it a hearing yet. 

Jack. Patience, lad, patience. The symphony is written 
anyhow, and has my approval. Madge is also charmed with it ; 
and do you remember how very delighted that old man was — 
the noble stranger, as we called him — when he heard you play 
it that evening ? 

Noel. Some old lunatic. By Jove ! the way he entered the 
room was decidedly suggestive of a strait-jacket. 

Jack {crosses to easel). Ay, but the exit that he made more 
than redeemed his character. " Here is fifty dollars on account, 
Mr. Brandt," he said, when he ordered the picture there {points 
to easel), and the speech struck me as being a damned eloquent 
one. But, by the way, Noel, lad, take that sketch over there to 
Old Screwsby ; it will bring a couple of dollars, I think, and I 
promised Warner's wife this morning I would send her around 
some wine for him this afternoon. 

Noel. My God ! another starving genius ! Oh, it is infa- 
mous ! While a set of numbskulls and idiots are rolling in 
wealth, here are three men of genius — Warner, you, and myself — 
actually denied a living. One dying from hunger, another can- 
not find time to develop the gift Heaven gave him, whilst the 
third is even denied a heariiig from the public ! Oh, the 
thought drives me wild ! 

Jack. Noel, my lad, I am afraid that you have a grain of 
envy in your composition. Beware of that, my boy. for it is an 
evil weed and will grow up apace, and will sap and choke up 
the good growth in your heart unless you pluck it out. Now, 
only suppose a fortune was suddenly thrust upon you, what 
would you do with it ? How many times a day would you dine, 
and how many suits of clothes would you wear .'' 

Noel. Well, Jack, if I were rich, I would be content to dine 
once a day, and to wear but one pair of boots {coming over R.), 
but I could give you an order for a picture that would cost five 
thousand dollars. 

Jack. Ah ! 

Noel. Yes, and 1 would send the same amount to poor 
Warner. 

Jack. Good ! 

Noel. I would have my symphony produced in a theatre of 
my own. 

Jack. Bravo ! 

Noel. And now, dear old boy, I am going to open my heart 
to you and show you the real cause of this fever of unrest — I 
could then marry the girl I love. 

Jack {looks up from easel a^id whistles). What ! you in 



THE BOHEMIANS. 1 3 

love ! {Laughs.) Well, upon my word, but that is the last 
straw. 

Madge {outside). Are you tired of waiting, Noel ? 

Noel. Hush ! 

Madge {entering with breakfast). Well, Noel, here is your 
breakfast at last. {Prepares table.) The toast browned to a 
turn, and I want you to just try those delicious strawberries. 
{Coming dowji to Jack.) Just try them. Jack, {He refuses.) 
Why, what is the matter ? 

Jack {rising). I have lost my appetite for berries, little one. 
{Goes to door C. atid whistles.) Come here, you rascal. 
{Whistles.) Blame me, but the rascal has run away. 

^Comes down. 

Madge. Shall I go after him, Jack ? 

Jack. Yes, if you will, sunlight. (Madge runs for her 
things.) I can't get the rascal to sit for me, but perhaps you 
will have more influence with him. 

Madge {tying on hat). Well, I will try. You see, I will ap- 
peal to his good sense, and tell him how he is delaying your 
work. I can always reason with Van. [Exit L. C. 

Jack {comes up ; looks off after her). And now, Noel, that 
my little ruse has got Madge out of the way, let us have it. 
{Sits on back of chair ; fills aiid lights pipe.) You were 
going to tell me about your love affair. Who is it you are in 
love with ? 

Noel. With Madge. 

Jack {surprised ; drops and breaks pipe). What! with 
Madge, your own cousin — our child ? 

Noel. You know^ Jack, although she calls me cousin, that 
there is no relationship between us ; and, although she was but 
a mere child when her guardian, my lather, died and left her to 
my care, you seem to forget that in the five years that have 
passed since Madge has been transformed from a child of 
twelve years into a beautiful young woman. 

Jack {crossing to easel). True ; but do you think she sus- 
pects ? Has she any idea of this feeling upon your part — that 
you love her ? 

Noel, Well, I don't know. I have never said a word about 
It to her ; for what would be the good of it ? I am too poor to 
think of marrying any one. 

Jack. You are right ; you are too poor to think of marriage. 
But, say, are you not going out to get that money for me ? I 
want to get some wine with it and send it to Warner. 

Noel {sits on pia7io stool and bows head on piano. Speaks 

the following in that position). No, I don't think I will go 

out this morning. In fact, I don't feel like doing anything to-day. 

Jack {comes up a?td speaks harshly). Not to-day alone, but, 



14 THE BOHEMIANS. 

by Jove, every day. You would rather see me leave my work, 
so that you could sit around doing nothing. I told Mrs. War- 
ner she should have the wine, and she is expecting it. 

Noel {jumps up, gets hat and pictures quickly ; shows that 
he is angry). Say no more about it, I'll go. But, hang it, you 
needn't take on that tone of voice. I am only too well aware 
that you look upon me as an idle, useless fellow, who has been 
the chief cause of all your trouble. [Exit L. c. 

Jack {coming dowti). Noel gone with tears in his eyes and a 
sob in his voice ! What the devil has got into me anyway ? 
What made me speak to the boy in the manner that I did ? 
Can it really be that I, Jack Brandt, am jealous ? {Laughs.) Oh, 
nonsense ! that would be a good joke. Jack Brandt in love ! 
Oh, no ; love is not for the likes of me. I was born to play 
uncle to some other fellow's nurslings. {Sighs and crosses to 
easel.) Only let me see Noel happy and famous and I will be 
content to find my happiness in applauding his works and danc- 
ing his children on my knee ; and, by Jove, it was time for this 
confidence of Noel's, for it has at last opened my eyes. I 
don't know where I have not been wandering in my stupid, 
selfish dreams. 

Enter Madge. 

Madge. Oh, Jack, it is really too bad, but I could not get 
Van to come home with me either by coaxing or talking sense 
to him. \Takes off her wraps. 

Jack. Never mind, little one ; perhaps it is all for the best, 
as I wish to talk to you all alone. 

Madge. Oh, Jack, what about ? 

Jack. Well, 1 want to know whether you love your cousin 
Noel or not. 

Madge {laughs). What a funny question. {Crosses to him ; 
leans on his back.) Why, of course I do, I would be the 
most ungrateful girl in the world if I did not. When my father 
died, you remember, he left me to the care of his dearest friend, 
Noel's father, and no father could be kinder while he lived. 
After his death, I was left a homeless, fatherless child to Noel's 
care, and he has been very kind to me ever since. I was noth- 
ing to you, yet you have been as kind and considerate as Noel, 
and I love you, too, you dear .old Jack. 

Jack. Oh, yes, I was kind ; but you see, you don't know me ; 
I had a reason for my show of kindness. 

lllLsA%Q {coming arou7id and kneeli?ig, R.). Ah, Jack, do you 
imagine I don't understand, now that I have grown to be a 
woman ? Do you imagine I do not remember how you would 
come to visit Noel and myself in our miserable little garret on 
one pretext or another, but always bringing some small token 
in the shape of money or eatables to help us along, until at last 



THE BOHEMIANS. 15 

you proposed that we should come and share your home with 
you ? This is what you have done for me [rising), and then you 
ask me if I love Noel. 

Jack. Well, I confess, the question was a stupid one. But 
what I wished to call your attention to was, have you noticed 
anything strange about him ? Have you noticed lately how 
unhappy and depressed he appears ? 

Madge. Oh, yes, but I did not wish to speak of it. Oh, 
Jack, is there anything the matter — has he any secret trouble ? 

Jack. Well, I should say he had a secret trouble. Why, 
Madge, he is in love. 

Madge {surprised). In love ! — Noel in love ! Did he tell you 
so ? 

Jack. Yes, not ten minutes ago. 

Madge. Then why is he so unhappy ? Is it because she 
does not love him in return ? 

Jack. Oh, no, indeed. In fact, the poor child is over head 
and ears in love with him herself, though she does not know it. 
She is such an innocent little darling that she mistakes her love 
for affection and friendship ; yet she is jealous of him and turns 
pale at the very thought of his marrying another. {Dog barks 
and ?nan shouts outside.) Hello ! Some one has found Van 
at home. 

[Racket is repeated ; then Major enters quickly and 
shuts the door after him, holdijtg it as if to keep some 
one out. 

Major. Excuse me for entering so unceremoniously, but 
there being no knocker on your door, and finding the key in the 
lock upon the outside, I took it for granted that your visitors 
were in the habit of entering unannounced. {Aside.) By Jove ! 
what a pretty girl ! , , . 

Jack. Yes, they do sometimes ; that is, when they don t 
know any better. 

Major. But, faith, your doorkeeper was inclmed to treat me 
rather savagely. 

Jack. That was because he did not like your face. 

Major {amioyed). Ah, I see ; a bit of pleasantry. But may 
I ask if I am addressing Mr. Noel Blake ? 

Jack. No, you have not the mentioned pleasure. My name 
is Jack Brandt. . 

Madge. Mr. Blake lives here, but at present is not at home. 
We will receive for him any message you might care to leave. 

Major. Thanks ; but if you will allow me, I would rather 
await his return. 

Jack. Well, you have my permission. - 

\As Madge places chair for hi?n, MAJOR raises glass to 
his eye ; looks her over. 



l6 THE BOHEMIANS. 

Major. Thanks. {Aside.) These Bohemians are certainly 
not the best bred people in the world. Thanks, my dear. {7o 
Madge.) By Jove, the girl is a beauty. I wonder what she is 
doing here. Ah, a model, I suppose. 

Madge {runs to door). Oh, I believe I hear Noel's step upon 
the stair now. Ah, yes, and here he is. (Enter NOEL, L. C.) 
Noel, this gentlemen is waiting to see you. 

Noel. Whom have I the honor of addressing ? 

Major {rising; presents his card). Major Wrangle, at 
your service. I called to see you on a little matter of business 
connected with your profession. I suppose you have in your 
collection of music a requiem or a de profundis — something, in 
short, of a melancholy description. 

Noel. Certainly. An unrecognized composer is sure to have 
his hands full of attempts in every style. But may I ask to 
what I am indebted for the honor of this visit .? 

\^Crosses to piano for music. 

Major. I am one of the few relatives of the late Wm. Gale. 

Jack {rising and crossing C). Oh, yes, the musical amateur 
whose death you were reading about this morning, Noel. 

Major. The same, sir. Music was his all-absorbing pas- 
sion ; and just before he died he expressed a desire to have 
one ot your compositions performed at his funeral. I always 
make it a point to gratify the caprice of a dying man. 

Noel (givifig 7misic). Then, sir, as a token of gratitude to 
my solitary admirer, allow me to present you with what you 
came here to purchase. 

Major. My dear Blake, I couldn't think of it ; business is 
business, you know. 

Jack {crossing). Correct ; business is business, and that 
march {taking music from NoEL) will cost you hfty dollars. 

Major {drawing out money). Very well. 

Noel {taking music from Jack). Jack, what do you mean ? 
Put up your money, sir ; I do not want it, and this will answer 
all requirements. {Gives music. 

Major. But, my dear sir, there is enough here for twenty 
funerals. 

Noel. It's the band parts that make it appear so bulky. 

Major {aside). I breathe again. 

Jack {crossing). I am glad to hear it. The room is a little 
close, but you will find more air on the outside. {Opens door.) 
Good-morning. 

Major {going up). Ah, to be sure. Good-morning. 

[Exit L. c. 

Noel. Was there ever anything to equal the insolence of 
those rich people ? 

Jack. Nothmg ; unless it might be the false pride of some 



THE BOHEMIANS. 17 

poor people. But let it go ; we have something more important 
to talk about. [Racket of dog barking and wo7neti 

screa7ning outside. 
Enter Blanche and Mrs. Van Slick. 

Mrs. V. S. Oh, what a horrid brute. A very formidable 
animal, sir, a horrid animal. 

Blanche {laughing). Very, and he made you jump so, 
mamma ; I couldn't help laughing. I was so afraid all your 
back hair would tumble down. Didn't he, mamma ? 

Mrs. V. S. My dear baby, please do be quiet. Is Mr. Noel 
Blake here ? 

Noel. At your service, madam. 

Mrs. V. S. I presume, Mr. Blake, that you have something 
of a weird, crawly nature amongst your musical odds and 
ends — a requiem, or something of that sort of thing. 

Jack {coming doiun). Not such a thing left, madam. We 
have just disposed of the last one in stock. Now, if you could 
use a nice funeral march, we can let you have one in capital 
condition and on very reasonable terms. 

Mrs. V. S. Is this intended for a joke, sir ? 

Noel. No, madam ; but I am sorry to say that I have just 
disposed of my last one a moment ago to a certain Major 
Wrangle. 

Mrs. V. S. {screams). Oh, the wretch ! He knew I was 
coming here, and so has forestalled me. But I will not be 
beaten ; and so as you have not got a requiem, I must be satis- 
fied with the funeral march your friend here has mentioned. 
And as I cannot think of bargaining with an artist of your 
merit, if you will kindly name your price 

Noel. 1 certainly cannot ask you to pay for what I offered to 
Major Wrangle for nothing. 

Mrs. V. S. You are very kind, but you will at least allow 
me in return to present your sister here with a slight token in 
recognition of your kindness to me, will you not? 

Noel {going L.). Certainly. [Exit L. 

Blanche {ivho has been all this time looking around studio 
and talking to Madge, comes and looks over Jack's shoulder, 
where he is working all the time at easel). Oh, mamma, 
come here quick. Look ! Why, it is Uncle William's picture 
he is painting, isn't it, mamma ? 

Mrs. V. S. {crossing and exami7iing picture^. Why, so it 
is ; and what a splendid likeness ! 

Jack. Ha, ha ! So Mr. Wm. Gale was our noble stranger, 
was he ? I now begin to understand. 

Mrs. V. S. Surely you were not painting his portrait without 
knowing his name ? There must be a story connected with such 
a strange affair. 
2 



1 8 THE BOHEMIANS. 

Madge. Indeed there is, and one that we are all proud of, too. 

Blanche. Oh, please tell it to me, do. I just dote upon 
stories, don't I, mamma ? 

Mrs. V. S. My dear baby, don't be so indiscreet. Young 
lady, if there is a little romance connected with my poor de- 
ceased relative and that picture yonder, we would be pleased to 
hear it. We are all attention. 

Madge. Well, ma'am, we were all — Jack, Noel, and myself 
— sitting- in this room one evening about a week ago, Noel had 
just completed his symphony and I was running it over on the 
piano with him, when, just as the last bars were reached, the 
door opened softly and a dark figure stepped in, and stood in 
the shadow silent as the grave. 

Jack {tii7'jiing aroii7id). Old and wrinkled, face like a piece 
of parchment Moses might have used, nose like an eagle's beak, 
an ivory-headed cane in his hand, and a cameo ring upon his 
little finger. 

Blanche {clapping hands). Oh, that is Uncle William 
exactly. How clever you are, isn't he, mamma ? 

Mrs.V. S. My dear baby ! 

Madge. Well, just as the last notes died away, he came for- 
ward, and, begging our pardon, excused himself by saying that 
he was passing by when the music arrested his attention. And 
could we tell him the name of the composer of the piece that we 
had just finished playing— that it was worthy of a Beethoven. 

Jack. "Well," I replied, coming forward as proud as a pea- 
cock, "the composer of the symphony that you have just been 
listening to is my friend Mr. Noel Blake." With that, the old 
man asked Noel and Madge to play it over once more, and, 
after they had complied with his request, he went up to Noel, 
and patting his shoulder, said, in tones of remarkable sweet- 
ness, "Mr. Blake, you are a master," and you can bet your 
sweet life he knew what he was talking about, too. 

Madge. And then he sat down and asked us about ourselves, 
our mode of living, and our ambitions, in such a kind, fatherly 
way, that we just told him everything. 

Jack. And when he was going, he said to me, " Mr. Brandt, 
I want you to paint me a picture that will remind me of this 
scene and of this night in after years ; for here to-night in this 
room I have spent the happiest hour of my whole life." And 
placing a roll of money in my hand, simply saying, " Accept 
this on account," he vanished before we thought to ask his 
name. 

Madge. That is all, ma'am, and we have never seen him 
since. 

Blanche. What an interesting story, and how well they told 
it, didn't they, mamma ? 



THE BOHEMIANS. I9 

Enter NoEL/rom l., wi//z music. 

Noel. Here is the music, madam, and I hope it will please 
you. 

Mrs. V. S. There is no doubt but what it will ; and, my 
dear child, your story has interested me very much. Rest as- 
sured I will not forget your kindness to my poor deceased rela- 
tive. You will not refuse the bestowal of a slight token, will you ? 

Madge. I will accept it gladly in my cousin's name and 
Jack's as in my own. 

Mrs. V. S. Your cousin's name ? Then this, Mr. 

{points to Jack), is your brother, 1 suppose ? 

Madge. Oh, no ; Jack is no relative at all. But I have lived 
with him all of my life nearly. 

Mrs. V. S. {^horrified ; aside). Oh dear, what shocking im- 
morality. (77? Blanche, w//<7 has been flirti7ig with Noel.) 
Baby, come to me this instant. (Jack rises 'and is going to 
escort her out.) Thanks, but you need not disturb yourself. 
Young girl, if you will please follow me to my carriage, I will 
give you the present I spoke of. Come, baby. Oh, what im- 
morality ! [Exit L. C; Noel sees them out, then comes down. 

Noel. Jack, there goes a most charming woman. And what 
a lovely girl ! 

Jack. Yes ; but did you notice how stiff your charming 
woman got all of a sudden when she found out in what relation 
we both stood toward Madge .? 

Enter Madge. 

Madge. Oh, Jack, see what she has given me. I don't like 
to open it, for it is such fun guessing. Now, you guess first. 

Jack. Well, Madge, I think that Mrs. Van Slick's present 
looks very much like money. 

Noel. Money ! Why, the thought is absurd ! 

Madge. Well, here goes to find out. {Opens packet.) Yes, 
Jack is right ; see — a note and some gold. 

Noel. Why, this is a greater outrage than the major's. I 
will throw it into the street. [Business ^/Jack and Noel. 

Jack. Hold on, lad. No more expensive treats to-day. 
The exchequer won't stand it, and you must remember she does 
not understand the circumstances of our litde household and is 
obliged to judge from appearances. 

Madge. • Jack, what do you mean } 

Jack. Nothing that you would understand. And now for 
my important subject. Noel, you lucky dog, Madge loves you. 

Madge. Oh, Jack ! 

Jack. And, Madge, it is you whom Noel feels so wretched 
bout. I was a brute to talk to you in the riddle I did a short 
while ago. 



20 THE BOHEMIANS. 

Madge. Noel, is this true ? 

Noel. Haven't you just heard Jack say so ? 

Jack. And now, Madge, let me advise you to look to your 
tucks and furbelows, for you are to be married in a month's 
time. [Voice outside : ''Letter for you." A -letter is thrown 
in at door ; No EL picks it up. 

Jack. Hello ! what is this ? Another order for a requiem, 
old man ? You had better get a lot of those things in stock. 

Noel {reads), " Sir : In accordance with the desire of my 
late client, William Gale, 1 have the pleasure to inform you that, 
with the exception of a small legacy of three thousand dollars "a 
year left to your artist friend, Mr. Jack Brandt, you are the sole 
heir to his vast fortune. Your presence, with that of your 
cousin and your friend, Mr. Brandt, is requested at the reading 
of the last will and testament of the deceased at his late resi- 
dence at Woodlawn, on Tuesday morning, the i6th, at lo a. m. 
We have, sir, the honor of being your humble servants, Rabbet 
& Small, Attorneys-at-Law." Jack, what does it all mean ? 

Jack. Well, old man, it means that you have made a ten- 
strike and tumbled into luck clear up to your eyes. It means 
that at last your dream of wealth is about to be realized. And, 
by Jove, Miss Madge, don't you think it comes just in the nick of 
time ? You will now be able to have a very swell honeymoon. 

Noel. On Tuesday, the i6th, at lo A. M. I suppose we will 
meet our visitors of to-day there also. 

Jack. Without a doubt. And 30U will also have the satis- 
faction of hearing your music properly performed. And now 
we wdl have to look alive, for we have hardly time to make the 
proper preparations for our visit. [A// goinj^. 

Madge. But stay. Jack. We are going out of our little 
humble home into a new world. Oh, Jack, what if we are 
leaving all of our happiness behind ? 

Jack. Nonsense, child. And, if we are — well, we shall 
know where it is, at least, and we can come back here again to 
find it. 

CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 

Scene. — Garden or park at Woodlawn ; Hudson River at 
back ; rustic benches, etc. Jack Brandt discovered r. i 
E., sketching ; Van lying at his feet. If a set house is used 
on L., all entrances aud exits from that side can be made 
through house. 
Jack. Scarcely three short months since he has become a 

rich man, and in that short time such changes have taken place 



THE BOHEMIANS. 21 

in his tastes and desires that I sometimes wonder if it can be 
the same ambitious, impatient lad who Hved in the old garret 
over there in New York— at war with the public because it 
would not come and do homage to his art. His art ! Why, the 
word is a stranger to him now — all of his time and thoughts are 
given up to pleasure— lawn parties, tennis, rowing, fishing, and 
Heaven knows what else, while the art that he professed once to 
love so much lies idle and neglected. And there is Madge, too. 
Poor little Madge ! Sometimes'! think I can discover a change 
there, too ; but she still meets him with the same sweet, win- 
some smile, and seems not to notice that she no longer holds 
him in her train as of old, or that the person of that little baby- 
faced Miss Van Slick has more charms for him than poor Madge 
ever had. (Si^^/is.) What if the words she uttered as we left 
the old home, that we might be leaving all of our happiness 
behind us, should be prophetic after all. {Looks towards 
house, L.) Ah, here comes the Major and her highness Mrs. 
Van Slick. So, Van. my boy, we had better make ourselves 
scarce until after her majesty has taken her constitutional. 

[Exit R. I E. wit/i Van. 
Enter Major and Mrs. Van, l. i e. 

Mrs. V. S. Oh, what a smell ! That horrid artist, Mr. 
Brandt, has been out here with his more horrid pipe. It is 
really too bad that poor Mr. Blake has to put up with the pres- 
ence of that vile wretch. And only think, Major, only yester- 
day I found that horrid dog of his asleep upon upon one of the 
new Turkish divans in the drawing-room. Can nothing be 
done, Major, to rid us of this intolerable nuisance .^ You seem 
to have a very great influence over Mr. Blake. Now, my dear 
Major, cannot something be done ? 

Major. Well, Mrs. Van Slick, I promise you to talk with 
Blake about the matter. But you intimated to me, when you 
proposed this meeting yesterday, that you had a more important 
matter to broach to me. 

Mrs. V. S. True, Major ; you see, I have not got over 
the surprise that the disposal of my cousin's property gave me. 
Of course, if you alone were the only one cut off with a shilling, 
1 would not have been so much put out, because he often told 
me that he would never leave you anything on account of your 
being such a spendthrift. \Sits on seat R. 

Major. Well, really, I must say that your candor is, to say 
the least, refreshing. But still, although my departed relative 
saw fit to ignore me in his will, feeling, as you say, that his 
fortune would not be sate in my hands, still I say, my dear 
Mrs. Van Slick, I have found a way by which a goodly sum of 
that same fortune has found its way to my pocket. 

Mrs, V. S. And possessing that very knowledge is the rea- 



22 THE BOHEMIANS. 

son of my asking you for this interview. You are aware after 
I found that I was not remembered in my cousin's will to any 
great extent, how by ingratiating myself into Mr. Blake's favor, 
I was invited to make my home here and to take full charge of 
his great estate. 

Major. True ; and from the way you have handled the reins 
since you took them up, I see no reason for you to complain. 
For, my dear Mrs. Van Slick, between you and me, poor Blake 
has been simply a figurehead. Everything has been left to 
your judgment and discretion. 

Mrs. V. S. Major, like yourself, I am hopelessly in debt, and 
having been looking forward to inheriting something at the 
death of my cousin to be able to free myself from the impor- 
tunities of my creditors, now in my desperation I have formed 
a plan by which, with your aid, I can practically command the 
expenditures and have full control of what should rightfully have 
been mine. 

Major. My dear Mrs. Van Slick, pray command me. What 
is it you propose ? 

Mrs. V. S. A marriage. 

Major [.whistles). Ah ! a marriage ! And with whom, I 
pray ? 

Mrs. V. S. Mr. Blake and Blanche, my daughter. 

Major. To be sure. A very pretty scheme, and one by 
which, if carried out, you could find a way to control the vast 
fortune of your son-in-law to your own satisfaction. But, my 
dear, where do I come in in this little drama ? 

Mrs. V. S. Help me to make Blanche Mrs. Noel Blake, and 
upon the day they are married I will make you a present often 
thousand dollars. 

Major. But is there not some sort of an engagement existing 
at present between Blanche and Bertie FoUet ? And is not Blake 
to marry his cousin Madge next month ? 

Mrs. V. S. 1 have got him to postpone his marriage with 
Madge for three months on the ground, as I have pointed out 
to him., that society would be outraged at the want of respect 
which he would otherwise show to his dead benefactor. And 
in three months. Major, one cannot tell what may happen. 

Major. True ; but this affair between Blanche and Bertie 
Follet 

Mrs. V. S. A mere boy and girl episode. Mr. Blake has 
been given to understand and look at it in that light also. 
Have you not noticed how very attentive he has been to Blanche 
of late ? I have instructed her in the part she is to play, and 
you can rest assured I will see that she plays it to perfection. 
But we must hit upon some plan to cause a rupture between 
Mr. Blake and his artist friend Brandt, so as to get him from 



THE BOHEMIANS. 2^ 

the field ; for, while he remains here, I fear for the success of 
our plans. 

Major. My dear Mrs. Van Slick, I will enter heartily into 
your scheme to help you to a rich son-in-law; for, I confess, 
since I first laid eyes upon his beautiful young cousin, I have 
had serious thoughts in that direction myself. 

Mrs. V. S. I see ; and in joining forces with me you will 
be only getting a rival out of the way. {Laughs.) Well, as 
we now understand each other, my business with you is accom- 
plished ; so let us return fo the house, as I have to get things in 
preparation for the ball this evening. {As they exeunt L. 3 E., 
they ?neet Jack coming 07i from R. 3 E. They should meet at 
C. Jack is smoking : he lifts his hat.) Oh, that horrid pipe ! 

[Exit L. 3 E. with Major. 

Jack {looking after her). A difference in taste that is, 
madam, I assure you. {Sits on seat.) I thought they had 
gone, else I should not have returned so soon. Now I wonder 
what new deviltry they have concocted for Noel's delectation ? 
Poor Noel ! poor lad ! He was a great deal happier in the old 
garret with all his pining after wealth than he is now with the 
dream of his life within his grasp. How like the moth is he 
that flutters about the flame, burning out its life, yet knowing it 
not. (Blanche laughs l.) The devil ! here comes that little 
brainless child, with her more than idiot companion, Mr. Bertie 
Follet. Well, like the Wandering Jew of old, I must flit for rest 
elsewhere. [Exit R. i e. 

Enter Blanche and BERTiE/r<7;// l. i e. 

Blanche. No, Bertie, dear, I have no hope at all now of our 
ever getting married since mamma has failed in inheriting my 
uncle's fortune. You know that was the condition upon which 
she gave her consent to our engagement. And she told me 
only a few weeks ago tfeat I must look upon our engagement as 
broken and must prepar® to marry a rich husband ; and that I 
must try and cultivate the attention and society of Mr. Blake 
upon every possible occasion. Oh, Bertie, why not go to work 
like a man and carve out a fortune for us both ? 

Bertie {aghast). What did you say. Miss Blanche ? Work ! 
Why, my dear girl, don't insult me ! Work ! Why, really, 
the name makes me shudder ! Please look at these hands. 
Why, don't you know that the Follets never did a stroke of 
work in all their lives ? You see your mother spoke so hope- 
fully about her inheriting your uncle's fortune that I really saw 
no great risk to myself in offering you my heart, hand, and 
name, you know. But now I find 1 have been most cruelly 
deceived. 

Blanckc. Deceived, indeed ! It is I who have been de- 
ceived. I thought you loved me as you said you did, but now I 



24 THE BOHEMIANS. 

find it was the money that I might inherit that you loved instead. 
And now, because I'm poor, you will forsake me and go out 
and dance attendance upon that hateful Miss Bosworth. If you 
loved me as I love you, we might be quite romantic and elope. 

Bertie. Elope ! Why, I haven't got enough to keep me in 
cigarettes. 

Blanche. Still, you might find work at something or an- 
other. How nice living in a cottage would be, dear ; and how 
very romantic. 

Bertie. Yes, the romantic part is all very well, but when 
you come to the working part, you know, my hands would get 
large and black and dirty, and that would never do for a Follet, 
you know. 

Blanche [looking off l.). And here comes Mr. Blake, and my 
eyes are all red. I must not let him see them. Come, Bertie 
let us go for a stroll down by the lake. \Goes R. 

Bertie [going R.). Damn that Blake ! I would like to strike 
him quite hard. But, no ; that would be beneath the dignity of 
a Follet. [Exit with Blanche r. i e. 

Enter Messenger, running. 

Messenger. Mr. Follet ! Mr. Follet ! [Stands R. I E. 

Bertie {entering r. i e.). Did you call me, sir ? 

[Messenger gives dispatch. 

Bertie {reads). "New York, Aug. 17th. Uncle Will died 
this morning. Come at once. — Father," Uncle will dead ! 
And I am his heir. Why, Blanche and I can marry now any- 
way and Blake be hanged ! 

[Exit, calling, " Blanche ! Blanche ! " 
Enter Noel and Madge, l. 3 e. 

Noel. As usual, Madge, I find you making a tomboy of 
yourself, running around all alone by yourself. How often have 
I forbidden your climbing trees, and just now w^hen I wanted 
you I could not find you anywhere in the house ; and when I 
looked for you in the grounds, instead of finding you ensconced 
in one of the numerous summer-houses, enriching your mind by 
reading some good book, where did I find you ? Perched away 
on the top of a great oak tree where, should you have happened 
to fall, it would have been instant death. I tell you, Madge, 
this must stop. Instead of acting like some wild creature, 
climbing trees and chasing butterflies, I wish you would take 
pattern by the beautiful and refined Miss Van Slick, and become, 
for the sake of the position you occupy, if for no other reason, a 
little more ladylike. 

Madge. Don't be angry with me, dear. I did want to see 
those dear little chicks up there in their nest so much. I was 
not afraid of falling, and I knew none of your five guests would 



THE BOHEMIANS. 25 

see me, because they never come to that part of the grounds. 
{Putting her arms around his neck.) Now kiss me and make 
up, and I promise I will try and not displease you again. 

Noel {repulses her). Oh, never mind all that. That has 
nothing to do with the question. {Looks at his watch.) It is'just 
four o'clock. My guests will he here in a few moments, and 
here you are not dressed yet. 

Madge. Dressed I Why, yes, I am. This is the best one 
I've got, and I was careful not to tear it up in the tree. {Sighs 
and sits L.) Ah, Noel, I feel that even if 1 were as smart and 
as well dressed as Miss Van Slick, I would still be out of place 
amongst your tine people. [Cries. 

Noel. Now why do you talk and act like this ? And why do 
you look so miserable of late ? You act as quiet as a mouse 
and keep us all at a distance. 

Madge. Perhaps, Noel, it is you that keep me at a distance. 

Noel. Oh, of course ; it is I who am to blame for everything. 
Throw it all upon my shoulders. Why, Madge, can you not 
understand the position this fortune has placed me in ? And 
that in order to get on in society I must make friends for myself? 

Madge. And have we not good friends enough already ? 
Why should we not send for some of our dear old friends, and 
let them enjoy a little of our prosperity ? There is poor Warner, 
for instance, and the babies — they would be glad to come, and 
the change, I am sure, would do them good. 

Noel. Oh, nonsense ! That is out of the question. But I 
wish you would bear in mind my wishes regarding your studying 
the manner and graces of the Van Slicks. Cultivate their 
society more, for I am satisfied that if you do you will profit by 
their companionship. 

Madge. I do try, dear, but 1 feel ill at ease in their presence ; 
and, besides, I like to keep poor Jack company. He seems so 
out of place and lonely here. 

^oel. Oh ! Jack. Let Jack growl like a bear in his corner, if 
he chooses ; but for you, I repeat, you will do well to cultivate 
the society of the Van Slicks. ^ 

Madge. Ah, Noel, I am afraid that the poor little orphan 
who knocked at your father's door one winter's night with her 
little bundle under her arm will never make a fine lady. 

\Rises and goes L. i E., crying^ 

Noel. What is the matter now ? And where are you going ? 

Madge. To my room. I do not feel well and wish to be alone. 

[Exit L. I E. 

Enter Major, r. 3 e. 
Noel. Foolish child ! Thank Heaven, I have sense enough 
for us both. 



26 THE BOHEMIANS. 

Major. Ah, good-morning, my clear Blake. I have been 
looking for you everywhere. By the way, I am going to run 
down to the city this evening, and as I am a little short, can 
you oblige me by giving me a check for this I. O. U. which I 
got from you last evening ? It's only for a small amount — $2,000. 

Noel. Why, certainly. And as I have my check-book with 
me, I will write it for you now. (^Business of making out 
check.) There it is. But remember, to-night you must give 
me my revenge when you return. 

Major. With pleasure, my dear boy. But was not that your 
little cousin I saw going as I came in ? 

Noel. Yes, she has gone to her room. She is not feeling 
well, and I wished her to take a little rest before the festivities 
began this evening. 

Major. Though I have not the honor of being enrolled upon 
the list of your cousin's particular friends, still I have always 
thought her a remarkably pretty girl. A diamond in the rough, 
as it were, needing the skill of the polisher to develop its true 
value. And now that the thought comes to me, I hope that 
there is nothing serious in the rumor I have heard regarding 
your marriage. 

Noel. Why do you ask ? 

Major. Pray forgive the seeming impertinence of my ques- 
tion, but the fact is I am deeply interested in your welfare, and 
1 deem it only my duty as a friend to remind you that, while 
you were at liberty to marry for love and all that sort of thing 
when you were only a poor struggling musician, a man in 
your present position owes a certain duty to society, and is not, 
in the eyes ot society, justifiable in throwing himself away. 

Noel. Not if he pledged his word ? 

Major. Under the circumstances — no. My dear fellow, I 
understand your case thoroughly. It was only a feeling of false 
delicacy which induced you to bind yourself to the fulfilment of 
a thoughtless promise, which, of course, while highly creditable 
to you and all that, is still wholly thrown away. My dear fellow, 
just take my advice : put an end to this entanglement at once, 
make your cousin a present of a nice little dowry with which to 
make some fortunate fellow happy later on, and you may, if you 
play your cards right {nudges hini), you lucky dog, marry Mrs. 
Van Slick's daughter before the year is out. 

Noel. But Miss Blanche's affections appear to be already 
engaged. 

Major. Nothing but mere childish folly, I assure you. You 
can have her for the asking ; and in making her your wife you 
ally yourself to one of the oldest families in the country. She 
raises you to her level, and the doors of the best people in 
society will be thrown open to you. {Looks at his watch.) But 



THE BOHEMIANS. 2*] 

I must go and dress. {Going L.) But think it over. Oh, you 
lucky dog ! How I envy you your chance ! [Exit L. 3 E, 

Enter Miss Blanche/t^w house, l. i e. 

Blanche. Bertie ! Bertie ! {^Discerns Noel.) Oh ! Mr, 
Blake ! Pray pardon me, but I thought you were Bertie — I 
mean, Mr. Follet. 

Noel. Really, Miss Van Slick, this is a most unlooked-for 
pleasure. And dressed so early too ! This is a delightful 
surprise. 

Blanche. Oh, that is what mamma did it for, and in the rush 
my maid ran the pins into me in a dreadful manner, so that I 
would be in time to meet you before the other guests arrived. 
And then mamma saw you out here, and told me to run out and 
act as though the meeting was accidental, you know. I did it 
well, didn't I, Mr. Blake ? 

Noel. It is a pleasure, nevertheless. What a charming 
toilet ! I am afraid you have laid yourself open to a great many 
critical remarks from some of my fair guests to-day. A woman 
may forgive another for being prettier, but never for being better 
dressed. 

Blanche. Oh, I'm glad you like my dress, for if you didn't it 
would have been an awful waste of money. Mamma said that 
she might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, and that the 
dressmaker's bill was so large now, that one more item wouldn't 
make much difference. 

Enter Jack back r. u. e.; listens. 

Noel. Ah, what a pleasure it would be to me to be given the 
right to pay all your little bills and your mother's also in the 
future. 

Blanche. Well, I am sure mamma would feel it a great pleas- 
ure and relief also. {Sees Jack.) Oh, there is Mr. Brandt. I 
can go now, can't I, Mr. Blake ? Mamma told me only to speak 
with you. She did not say I was to amuse Mr. Brandt. 

[Noel sees her ^l. i e. 

Jack {coming down R.). And yet, my dear Miss Van Slick, 
you do amuse me extremely. {Sils R. as Noel conies tip.) 
Noel, my lad, you deserve a medal from the humane society, 
and no mistake. 

Noel. What do you mean ? 

Jack. I mean your daily efforts to rescue that poor brainless 
child tor a time from her mamma's terrible clutches can only be 
prompted by the sublimest heroism on your part. 

Noel. I find Miss Van Slick very agreeable company, and I 
think it would do Madge no harm, let me tell you, if she had a 
little of Miss Van Slick's refinement. 



23 THE BOHEMIANS. 

Jack. I am afraid you think Madge a little awkward, don't 
you, Noel ? 

Noel. Well, a little, I must confess. 

Jack. And yet the time is very short — three short months — 
since you felt quite otherwise. 

Noel. Well, you see, my position has changed since then. 

Jack. True ; but, by the way, lad, do you know the name of 
Madge's mother — I mean her maiden name ? 

Noel. No. Father always spoke of his friend and wife as 
though there was some mystery about them. Why do you ask ? 

Jack. Why, one of your friends met me in the park a short 
while ago — you know the one I mean — an old man, the one who 
was so struck by a resemblance he saw between Madge and 
some one belonging to him. 

Noel. Oh, you mean old Beresford — the retired banker. His 
daughter ran away with some opera singer or actor, and the 
event, they say, has unsettled his brain. He is continually dis- 
covering a resemblance in every fresh face that he sees. 

Jack. Well, he told me the reason this morning. Before 
his daughter died she wrote him, asking him to provide for her 
child, a little girl. He was to recognize her by a certain birth- 
mark. But it seems he was travelling, and the letter never 
reached him for months afterwards, and when he tried to find his 
grandchild he was told that the father had hired a nurse and 
had taken her on his travels with him. 

Noel. Well, I hope he will find her some time. But you 
must excuse me now, Jack, as I must go and prepare to receive 
my guests. [Going l.. 

Jack. And I'll go for a stroll and a smoke as a sort of bracer 
for my plunge into society. ]^Going R. u. E. 

Noel {turning). Look here. Jack, do you intend to wear that 
suit of clothes the rest of your life ? 

Jack {coining down). No, I'm afraid I can't, unless I die 
sooner than I expect to. {Exaniiiiing.) By the looks of things 
now, 1 am afraid I will have to be ordering another in about a 
year or two. 

Noel. Why are you so dead to what is going on around you ? 
Don't you see that Miss Van Slick is always making fun of you 
behind your back ? Why, the servants make a butt of you. 

^Crosses to R. 

Z2iC)s. {coining dow 71 I..). Oh, your servants object to my old 
shooting jacket, do they ? By Jove ! it is lucky for me that they 
see me sometimes in the society of such a swell as their master. 

Noel. And I also wish you woulftlook after that dog of yours 
a little closer. You know Mrs. Vgt» Sligk is terribly afraid of 
him, and the other day she found him asltep in her boudoir and 
had hard work to drive the brute out. 



THE BOHEMIANS. 29 

Jack. Poor old Van ! You see, Noel, he thinks that he is 
still in the old garret at home where the furniture was not too 
good to be used. 

Noel. Well, he would be just as well off in the stables here. 

Jack. Well, Noel, lad, I will see that he annoys your tine 
friends no more. But I couldn't think of putting him in your 
stable ; for I am afraid that he would be putting on airs if he 
associated much with your servants. 

Enter Madge from l. 3 e., running, dressed in a 
fashionable evening gown, 

Madge {runs to Noel and embraces him). Oh, you dread- 
ful impostor you ! Now I understand the reason of the scolding 
you gave me a short while ago. I confess that it did make me 
feel a little unhappy, and I left you to go and have a good cry 
all alone. But when I got to my room, there was this beautiful 
new dress spread out on my bed, bouquet and all ; and old Mrs. 
Kennet. beaming with smiles and ready to dress me. Look, 
Jack, did you ever see anything to equal it ? Everything in 
such perfect taste. \Business ad libituiu. 

Noel. But I don't understand. What do you mean ? 

Madge. Oh, of course not. But you are not going to deceive 
me again, sir, I can tell you. {Goes to him.) Dear Noel, you 
have made me so happy ; you have no idea what all your 
thoughtful kindness means to me at this time. I was beginning 
to think 

Noel {repulsing her). But I tell you again I don't under- 
stand. There is some mistake. Of course, if I knew that you 
wanted a dress, I should have been pleased to have given you 
one ; but it really never occurred to me. 

Madge [surprised). Then this is not your present, nor the 
money Mrs. Kennet has given to me from time to time. 

Noel {crossing to L.). I tell you I know nothing about it ; 
and now please excuse me, as I have a great many things to 
look after for the entertainment of my guests this afternoon. 

[Exit L. I e. 

Madge. And I was so happy ! Yet he never gave me a 
thought. {Looks at Jack; starts; then goes 07>er slowly to 
him L.) Thank you, Jack. And please forgive me for not un- 
derstanding before. \Turns from him and weeps. 

Jack. What is this ? Tears ! Why, child, all the dresses 
in New York are not worth such thanks as these. But you see, 
Madge, it is just as Noel says, — he did not think. So I 

Madge. I understancy|f Only, Jack, you did not wait to be 
asked. Oh, Jack, take^^^way from this place, where we have 
both stayed too lo^Aj^^Bly. Let us go back to the dear old 
room, where, if \^^^^^^Bnjoy the splendor that surrounds us 
here, we can at leHW^iappy together. 



30 



The BOHEMtATfS. 



Jack. Why, you silly little woman, what do you think Noel 
would say to that ? You must not think of such a thing, for the 
sake of your own happiness. 

Madge. My happiness ! Where is it ? Has it not been 
slipping away from me day by day, hour by hour, from 
the moment I first came here ? No. Jack, you feel as 1 do, 
though you will not admit it, that my poor little dream is over, 
and Noel will soon begin to be ashamed of me, as he is already 
of his art and his old friends. 

[Kisses his htuids and exit quickly, L. i e. 

Jack {looking ajter her). Madge ! {Calls.) Gone ; and she 
kissed my hands ! And as her tears fell upon them, they seemed 
to burn, and made me feel as though I had been stung. {Sighs.) 
Poor child ! How she loves him ; and that miserable fellow 
throws away like a withered leaf a love that would make the best 
and brightest joy of another's life. 

[Exit R. I E. slowly. Singing and laughter heard at back. 
Then enter Dale, Smiley, and others r. 3 e. This part 
can be played ad libitum up to the entrance of ]kCYi. 

Dale. Bring along the hampers, boys. This is a glorious 
sport. And hurry and get out the viands, for that sail down the 
river has made me as hungry as a bear. 

\Table is spread on the grass ; btisiness of gettijig ready 
and ealijig during the following speeches. 

Smiley. I say. Dale, isn't Blake's summer residence some- 
where around here on the river ? 

Dale. So it is, old chappie. Joe Smith wrote me that it was 
near Tarrytown. By Jove, old boy, what do you say to hunt- 
ing him up after v/e have had our lunch ? 

Smiley. A capital idea ! He will be delighted to see us, no 
doubt. And I am just dying for a sight of dear old Jack and 
little Madge. 

Dale. I say, Smiley, Madge struck a snap after all when she 
caught Noel. 

Smiley. Oh, I don't know. I'm willing to bet now that she 
has the worst end of the bargain. 

Enter Jack, r. i e. 

Jack. Gentlemen, are you aware {Surprised.) What, 

Smiley ! Dale ! Well, old boys, I am delighted. 

Dale and Smiley. The happiness is mutual, old chap. 

Dale. In fact, we were just speaking about you. 

Smiley. But I say, Jack, where^are Madge and Noel ? We 
are just dying for a sight of them tjg^h. ^ 

Dale. Jack, allow me to introduce 10*^00 the members of the 
Bohemian Club, just out for a pleasure ^ip. Feeling the calls 



THE BOHEMIANS. 3 1 

of the inner man a little too strong to resist any longer, we con- 
cluded to stop here and satisfy his cravings. Please squat right 
down and join us. But first, what is the name of this Arcadian 
vale ? 

Jack. This is Woodlawn, the summer home of Noel Blake, 
Esquire. 

Smiley and Dale. Hip ! hip ! hurrah ! Port at last ! 

Jack. And here comes Madge now to speak for herself. 

Madge [rimning). Oh, Jack ! {Discerns party.) What, 
my dear old friends, Dale and Smiley ! This is indeed a pleasure. 

Dale. Little Madge now blossomed into a fashionable young 
lady. 

Madge. Yes, litde Madge, who now having you here will 
not let you leave in a hurry, 1 can tell you. 

Dale. Generous girl ! And these are the members of the 
Bohemian Club — you remember the name of our new musical 
comedy I wrote you about. 

Madge. Oh, I remember ; and how did you succeed ? 

Smiley. Capitally. The skit made a positive hit. Oh, by- 

the-by, you never heard the score of it, did you ? Well, as we 

are here, we will, with your permission, run through the first 

act. [Btistness ad libitum. An act from some musical farce 

or comedy can be introduced. 

Madge {at close, clapping her hands). Bravo ! bravo ! 

Dale. I say, Jack, the heat is positively tropical. Oblige us 
by leading us to the nearest fountain and leaving us in it. 

Madge {laughs). We have not got a fountain handy, and 
besides in that gorgeous dress you might frighten the fishes. 
But what do you say to a nice cold bottle of wine right off the 
ice out here under the trees in true Bohemian style ? 

All. Bravo ! Capital ! 

Dale. Jack, will you please give the necessary orders ? 

Jack. No ; on this occasion I will attend to it in person, and 
thus be sure of obtaining the genuine article. [Exit L. 3 E. 

Smiley. Really, Miss Madge, had I known that you were 
mistress of this great domain, I would have 

Madge. Sit down there, you foolish fellows, for you will find 
me the same Madge whom you used to dance upon your knee, 
and who has so often lit that old, familiar pipe you are endeav- 
oring so hard to hide from my gaze. Come, let me light it for 
you now, just to show you I have not forgotten the art. 
{All the men produce pipes, the girls cigarettes, and smoke.) 
There ! the smell of that old pipe is far sweeter to my nostrils 
than all Miss Van Slick's fine perfume. 

Enter from l. i e. Mrs. Van Slick, Blanche, and Major. 

Mrs. Van Slick {coughing). What a horrible smell of 



32 THE BOHEMIANS. 

tobacco ! {^Discovers party up hack.) Oh, goodness gra- 
cious ! Major, just look there ! (Enter Noel, l. i e.) How 
came they on the grounds ? (Noel crosses over to Mrs. V. S., 
R.) And, as I live, Miss Madge is amongst them ! 1 suppose,^ 
my dear Noel, this is another of Mr. Jack Brandt's graceful jests.' 
(Jack enters /><>/// l. zuith bottles.) It is not enough that ladies 
are to be terrified out of their lives by his very formidable dog, 
but now they must be poisoned by hi§ friends' vile-smelling 
tobacco, not to speak of the insult offered to us by their vulgar 
practice. 

Noel. Allow me, my dear Mrs. Van Slick, to apologize for 
their presence in his name, and to assure you that his dog, 
his friends, or anything connected with him will not annoy you 
after to-day. 

Major. Spoken like a true gentleman, sir ; damn me if it 
ain't. [Business of bowing to the ladies, 

Noel {crossing over to party). Mr. Dale and Mr. Smiley, I 
believe. 

Madge. Yes, Noel, our old friends. Isn't it just jolly to have 
them with us again ? 

Noel. I am sorry, Madge, I cannot enter into your enjoy- 
ment of meeting your friends, as you are pleased to term them. 
And, owing to the fact that my house is quite full of guests at 
present, I am sorry that I cannot ask for the pleasure of their 
further company. I shall be happy to place my carriage at 
their disposal. [Looking at his watch.) By starting at once, 
they will be able to reach the station in time to catch the next 
train for New York. 

Madge. Noel, are you mad ? Why, these are our old and 
true friends — Jack's guests. 

Noel. When Mr. Jack Brandt has a home of his own I shall 
not question his choice of friends. I claim only the same privi- 
lege here, where I am the master. [Madge exit L. 2 E. 

Smiley. Will some one pinch me ? Was it Noel Blake I 
heard speak those words — and to us ? 

Jack [coining forzvard). Forget them, friends. Forget 
them and the cur who dared give such words utterance. He 
wishes, it seems to me, to break with all of his old friends. He 
is a wealthy man now, and it is beneath his dignity to associate 
with his old Bohemian set. He has insulted you. Smiley — you 
who sold the coat from off your own back only a short time ago 
in order to purchase wine for him when he lay sick with fever, 

Noel. Brandt, do you wish to humiliate me by recalling the 
past ? 

Jack. No ; I merely wished to remind you of it. You seem 
to have forgotten so much already that should have been sacred 
to you. I know that I am a rough sort of a fellow, and that my 



THE BOHEMIANS. 33 

appearance here in my shabby coat is like a blot upon your 
splendor, and I am now about to remove it forever from your 
gaze. But before I go there is one thing I wish to speak to you 
about. It is of Madge. Noel, be true to her, treat her kindly, 
and give to her the love that her tender heart craves, and which 
I am afraid you are letting go out from you to another. This is 
all I ask. Grant me this last request, and 1 will go out into the 
great world and back to my old life, and will mar your pros- 
perity no more. 

Noel. Well, if what goes on here does not please you, why, 
you have the remedy in your own hands. 

Jack {aside). My God ! After all my sacrifices, has it come 
to this ? I have the remedy in my own hands ! 

\Gun fired outside ; Madge runs on to Jack. 

Madge. Jack ! Jack ! {^Sobs in his arms. 

Jack. Madge ! what is the matter ? What has happened t 

Enter Servant, l. i e., with gun. 

Madge. Oh, Jack, didn't you hear the shot ? They have 
killed poor Van. 

Jack. What ! Killed my faithful dog — my only true friend ? 
{Going to Servant.) Tell me, was it you who fired that shot ? 

Servant. Yes, sir ; by the master's orders. 

Jack. Noel, tell me that this fellow lies. Tell me that, at 
least, it was not by your orders that the cowardly deed was com- 
mitted. 

Noel. Well, it was by my orders that the brute was killed ; 
what of it ? [Exit Servant, l. i e. 

Jack. You have shot Van through his faithful heart. Poor 
fellow ! He was good for nothing else but to love you, but like 
his master he humbled your magnihcence by his shabby pres- 
ence. \Sinks on seat, R. 

Madge. Don't grieve. Jack ; but come with me. They will 
only sneer at your grief here. 

Jack {starting up). It is not only for the dog I grieve, for it 
is not he alone that he is dead. The friendship that has filled my 
life has been murdered by the same foul blow. {Advances.) 
But the veil is torn away at last, and I can look away down to 
the bottom of your shallow soul and see that you are only a self- 
ish, ungrateful coward. 

Noel. Brandt ! 

Jack. Silence ! I have, with the true Bohemian spirit, fed 
you with my bread. My hopes, as you well know, were all 
centred in you. I even made of my talents a ladder for your 
genius to climb upon. If you had asked me for my life's blood, 
I believe I would not have denied you. And how have you 
rewarded me in return ? May Heaven forgive you, Noel Blake, 



34 



THE BOHEMIANS. 



for you have reduced me to the infinite baseness of flinging my 
own benefits in your teeth ; you have robbed me of your glory, 
which was to be the end and consolation of all my sacrifices. 
I had nothing left but my poor, faithful Van, and you have even 
deprived me of his companionship. You shot him that you 
might be rid of his master. Well, you have gained your point. 
From this moment we are strangers. 

Madge [as JACKgoes up). Jack ! Jack ! Take me with you ! 

Noel {stepping c). Madge ! I forbid you to stir one step. 

Madge. Don't dare to touch me, you coward ! 



Blanche 



Mrs. V. S. 
Major. 



CURTAIN. 
Smiley. 



Noel. 



Dale. 



Company. 



Jack. 
Madge. 



ACT III. 

g(«e]^e, — Same as Act I. ; two years supposed to have elapsed. 

Jack (enters slowly). Well, here I am, home once more 
after two years of wandering in the vain attempt to stifle the 
great ever-gnawing pain at my heart. Home once more to try 
and begin the old life again. Ah ! but with what a diff"erence. 
To think that where, a few years back, by this hearth, I had 
hope, love, and friendship with me, I must henceforth sit 
alone and smoke my solitary pipe. {Crosses to L, and looks at 
picture on the wall.) And there still hangs my great inspira- 
tion — the dream of my life. How often have I longed in the old 
days for the time when it should be finished. Shall I ever have 
the courage again, I wonder, to go on with it ? Can I ever 
hope to renew the colors with which it was begun — the colors 
blended in such magic tints by youth, eager longing, and ambi- 
tion. {Sighs; turns and goes 'R. to basket.) As well try and 
bring back my old careless self of two years ago. And here is 
little Madge's work-basket. {Bows his head over it for a 7no- 
ment before his speech, which is given in a broken voice.) 
Here is where she used to sit, so busy and so bright, where I 
shall never see her sit again. Never again shall I turn from my 
easel to watch the little figure in her neat gray gown, flitting 



THE BOHEMIANS. 35 

about the room, the kindly spirit of our bachelor fireside. Poor 
child ! I wonder how she has prospered in the last two years. 
Married, no doubt, to Noel, and happy in the love of husband 

and children, while I [Si?iks into chair at table and 

boivs his head. 

Enter Freddie Sproul, l. C; starts, then comes down. 

Fred. What ? No ! Yes, it is ! Old Jack come back. 
{Shakes his hand.) Delighted to see you, old chap, I am, upon 
my word. I thought 1 saw some one moving around over here, 
so I says to Mrs. Sproul 

Jack. Mrs. Sproul ? 

Fred. Yes, Mrs. Sproul, Jack ; I'm married, you know, and 
have got the handsomest baby. Jack, you ever saw. And, by 
Jove ! now that you have returned again, you must paint its 
portrait. Weighed sixteen pounds when it was born. Well, as I 
was telling you, I says to Mrs. Sproul, " I'll bet a little that is 
old Jack over there in the studio." Our lodgings, you see, are 
right across the way, so over I came to find out. By Jove ! 
you don't know how good it seems to have you back once more. 
And Miss Madge — is she with you ? 

Jack. No, Freddie, I am by myself. 

Fred. Oh, I see. You have just run up to see that the old 
place had not moved away in your absence. When are you 
going back ? 

Jack. Never ; I have parted from Noel forever. 

Fred. Parted from Noel forever ? 

Jack. Yes. Did not Dale or Smiley tell you ? 

Fred. I was away in Italy, I guess, when they were here, and 
have seen no one of the old party until this moment. But, Jack, 
surely you and Noel have not quarrelled ? 

Jack. Yes, such is the truth. We are to each other as 
strangers. It is too long and wretched a story to tell you now, 
but some day 

Fred. Never mind about it. I am sure you were not to 
blame, whatever the trouble may be. But I say. Jack, come 
over to my rooms, and be introduced to Mrs. Sproul and that 
young sixteen-pounder I just told you about. He is a peach, I 
tell you ; and besides, you can enjoy an old time pipe with me 
over a little beer. What do you say ? 

Jack. Thanks, my lad, for your kindness. I will accept 
your offer, for I must confess I feel the need of a little stimulant 
keenly. [Exeunt R. I E. 

Enter Mrs. Kennet, l. C; looks in, then enters cautiously. 
Mrs. K. Come right in. Miss Madge ; there is no one here. 



36 THE BOHEMIANS. 

Enter VikYyOY., fashiojiably dressed, 

Mrs. K. Dear, dear, Miss, what a queer place this is, and 
{snuffing) how musty everything smells. 

Madge. Yes, dear old Kennet, you see that is because it has 
been shut up for over two years,— years that have seemed to me 
like ages, but you cannot imagine how delighted I am to get 
back in the dear old place once more. We were so contented, 
Mrs. Kennet, even though we were very poor. 

Mrs. K. Indeed, my dear, money does not aKvays bring 
happiness. (Madge removes her things.) But surely, Miss 
Madge, you do not mean to stop here. 

Madge. Oh, no, you dear old Kennet. Grandpa has taken a 
suite at the Kremlin during our stay here. But 1 could not help 
coming to see the old home and Jack — I mean Mr. Brandt — for 1 
fear that he is unhappy. Every one has seemed so unkind to him. 

Mrs. K, Then, indeed, that is what Mr. Brandt don't deserve. 

Madge. And least of all from me, who should have known 
how to read that noblest, tenderest of hearts. But, Kennet, if 
he should come in, you don't think that he will misjudge the 
cause of my presence here, do you ? 

Mrs. K. Why, certainly not, my dear. If he is in trouble, 
where else should you go but here ? 

Madge. Oh, thanks, and now let us put the place in order, 
for it needs it badly. {Business.) But, — oh, see, — his great 
picture. Oh, just help me lift it down and put it on that easel. 
{Business of removing picture from easel and puttitig the other 
itt its place ; dusts it off.) There, see how the colors glow, 
now that the dust is removed, and it has been months and 
months since a brush was put on it — months {sadly) of patient 
self-denial and devotion, of loneliness and misjudged affection. 
Forgive me, Jack ! I was blind — I did not know. 

S^Bows head on picture. 

Mrs. K. Come, my dear, you must not fret ; that will be all 
over now, and Mr. Brandt will yet be as happy and as famous 
as no doubt he deserves to be. 

Madge. Yes. We will never misunderstand him again. 

Enter Fred., running, r. i e.; stops suddenly. 

Fred. Bless me ! if it isn't Miss Madge herself! {Advanc- 
ing and offering his hand.) Well, you can't imagine how 
pleased I am to see you once more. And my ! won't Jack be 
delighted ? 

Madge. Oh, Fred, where is he ? 

Fred. Right across the way at my lodging with Mrs. Sproul 
and the sixteen-pounder. Why, he only returned here after two 
years' absence a few moments ago, and I just ran over for his 



THE BOHEMIAN^. 37 

pipe. Oh, Lord bless you ! it seems just Uke old times to see 
you back again. But I must run and inform Jack. 

[Goinj;- R. I E,, Madge catches him. 

Madge. Wait one moment, Freddie, and tell me how he is 
looking. Is he well and happy ? 

Fred. Well, he looks as well as a man can look who has 
been an inmate of a French hospital for a year. 

Madge- Then he has been sick — perhaps dying. 

Fred. Well, not quite so bad as that. In trying to rescue 
two children from a burning building, he nearly lost the sight of 
both his eyes. But, thanks to the skill of the physicians, he is all 

right again. And as for happiness Well, Miss Madge, he 

has told me about the quarrel with Noel, and I don't think that he 
has quite recovered from the blow yet. But I must go and tell 
him you are here. I am sure it will bring back the old life to 
him again. \Jjoing j she catches him. 

Madge. Please don't say anything about my being here. In 
fact. Dale, Smiley, and other of his old friends have just arrived 
in New York from Australia, where we have been travelling, 
and we are all going to meet here to-night and give him a sur- 
prise. But, Freddie, just go back and tell him you could not 
find the dear old pipe, and prevail upon him to come and find 
it for himself. You understand ? 

Fred. By Jove ! An excellent plan. {Going.) But, Miss 
Madge' don't fail to return with him to our lodgings. I wish 
you to become acquainted with Mrs. Sproul and that^ sixteen 
pounder. I tell you, he is a peach. [Exit R. I E. 

Madge. And now, Mrs. Kennet, I will just change this cos- 
tume for one that Jack will understand much better. 

[Exit L. 3 E. 

Mrs. K. Bless her dear heart ! I wonder if she thinks she 
can fool poor old Kennet. Don't I see that she is just a-dying 
with love for Mr. Brandt ? Well, I guess everything will come 
out all right now ; but she don't wish Mr. Brandt to know that 
she is the rich granddaughter of Mr. Beresford ; that is what 
I can't understand. But I must get the tea ready, for I am 
willing to bet that Mr. Brandt has not had a cup ot decent tea 
since he left Woodlawn two years ago. And well do I remem- 
ber it's many a time when he would drop in to see us servants 
in the kitchen, and treat us just as polite as though we were 
some great ladies. And when I offered him a cup of tea, he 
would "say after taking a sup and holding his cup aloft in this 
manner, <' Kennet," he would say, " this is a necktie fit for the 
gods." 

Enter Madge, l. 3 e. 

Madge {wearing dress of Act I.). There, Kennet, how do I 
look ? He can come now as soon as he likes. 



38 THE BOHEMIANS. 

Mrs. K. Will I light the lamp, Miss Madge ? 

Madge. No, Kentiet, it will be easier for me to speak to him 
in the dark. 

Mrs. K. Very well, Miss ; I will go and prepare a little 
lunch for you both. For you know you have not broken your 
fast since this morning. [Exit R. 3 E. 

Madge. But now what am I to say ? Now that the time has 
come, my courage fails me. Oh, I fear I have been rash in 
coming here in this manner. Better that Jack should never 
know what I have come here to tell him, than I should sink one 
hairsbreath in the estimation his little Madge of the old days 
holds in his thoughts. {Starts.) There is a step on the stairs 
now. {Goes to door C.) How slow and dull and listless it 
sounds ! [Comes down and sits at work-basket, darning 

stockitigs. 

Enter Jack, l. c. 

Jack {surprised). I beg your pardon, Miss, I made a mis- 
take, my room must be on the other side. 

Madge. Come right in — it's no mistake. Jack. [Turns. 

Jack {gladly ; rushing to her.) What, Madge ! Little 
Madge ! [Staggers and drops with his head in her lap. 

Jack. Oh, Madge! is it really you, child? And what are 
you doing here ? 

Madge. Darning the stockings, Jack. And see — they need it 
badly. 

Jack {rising). Yes, it is herself. Oh, child, you have come 
back to brighten my poor home and life once more, and in your 
pretty gray gown of the old days, too. {Lookijig around.) And, 
you little witch, you have been using your wand about the room 
already. 

Madge. Only a broomstick. Jack ; that, you know, is the 
proper thing for a witch. 

Jack. Are you sure this is not all a dream ? Madge, dear, 
have we really been away all this long dreary time ? 

Madge {rises and gets blouse j theti takes off his coat and 
puts blouse on instead). I am sure you have been away some- 
where, sir, to learn such extravagant habits. Are you going to 
wear that tine new coat in the house ? That beautiful coat 
that you have had only live years. 

Jack {sub?nitting to the chajige). Yes ; it is herself, the little 
Madge of old, come back to scold me and keep everything in 
order. {Brighteni7ig up.) There, madam, I hope you are 
satisfied now. And perhaps you will tell me the meaning of 
this delightful apparition on my hearthstone. 

Madge. Why, of course. {Rising.) But after I have made 
the tea. [Going. 



THE BOHEMIANS. 39 

Jack {stopping her). The kettle is not boiling yet. But 
where have you been, young lady, may I ask, that you have 
grown so very aristocratic, and forgotten the rudiments of an 
art in which you used to excel. 

Madge. Where I should never have gone, where no one 
wants me any longer, and where I will never again return. 

[Sits at table and bows her head. 

Jack. What do you mean ? 

Madge. I mean, Jack, that everything between Noel and 
myself came to an end two years ago. I left Woodlawn on the 
same day that you did. 

Jack. Great Heavens ! That it should come to this ! 

Madge. It is not so very bad after all. I have good friends 
still, and 1 now have my big brother Jack to look after me ; and 
there is many a poor girl who has to go and face a cold, cruel 
world to earn her bread without any such consolation or sup- 
port. 

Jack. My poor child ! And how did those little hands serve 
you in the contact with the world you speak of? But, why talk 
of your working ; you can trust me, Madge, can you not 1 

Madge. With my life, Jack. 

Jack. Then let me make it my joy to work for you and 
make a home for you. A home, though humble, would, at 
least, be your own. 

Madge. Jack ! 

Jack. I know I am selfish to speak like this so soon ; I know 
that the disparity in our ages should keep my tongue dumb. 
But the thought of you here in this great cruel city, all alone, is 
more than I can bear. The thought ot you struggling through 
wind, rain, and storm, day after day, to earn the miserable pit- 
tance that will hardly keep soul and body together, of the hard- 
ships you must endure, and the insults your very beauty will 
subject you to — oh, Madge, the tirst truits of your heart cannot 
be mine, I know, but I will be so patient, dear, and so content 
with ever so little ; to be allowed to work for you, to care for 
you, to give to you my very best, is all I ask. And, surely, 
after a time, when you have proved the strength of my devo- 
tion, surely a heart so tender and true as yours will find some 
little love in return. And I will wait for that so patiently— so 
patiently, dear. 

Madge. Oh, you poor, foolish old Jack, you have made a 
little mistake when you think I have been suffering. Instead, I 
have been enjoying all the pleasures a heart could desire. Ah, 
no, Jack, I'm afraid it is you who have been the sufferer from 
your contact with the cruel world you speak of. 

Jack. You have left Noel and have been happy since ! I 
don't understand. 



40 THE BOHEMIANS. 

Madge. Well, then, let me explain. After you went away 
from Woodlawn on that dreadful day, I wished to follow you, 
but Noel would not allow me to. I succeeded, however, in get- 
ting away the next morning, and went direct to our old friends 
Dale and Smiley. You remember how eager they always were 
to have me join their company. Well, I offered my services 
and was engaged at once. And, oh, Jack, while we were re- 
hearsing I discovered a friend who knew my mother intimately. 
He was not a member of the company, but he travelled with 
us, and his presence made me the happiest young girl in the 
world. 

Jack {aside). His presence made her the happiest girl in the 
world. She loves some one else. 

Madge. So, you dear old Jack, instead of suffering, I have 
been happy and contented for the past two years, winning 
operatic honors in Australia as the bright particular star of 
Dale and Smiley 's Royal Operatic Company. {Throws her 
arms around his neck.) And now 

Enter Noel, l. c. 

Noel. Just as I expected. I saw in the papers this morning 
that the opera company that you ran away with when you left 
Woodlawn had arrived in New York, and I felt in a moment 
where I would be able to find you. 

Madge {coldly). I think, sir, that at least you might have 
spared me this. 

Noel. I wish to have no words about the matter. My desire 
is for you to leave this place at once and return with me to 
Woodlawn. I am a fool, no doubt, for my pains, for a girl who 
is so lost to all self-respect as to follow a man to his rooms 
alone [Jack makes inovemeiit j MADGE resiraiiis him. 

Enter Mrs. Kennet, r. 3 e. 

Mrs. K. You are mistaken, sir ; Miss Madge came here 
under my protection. Y^tirtseys. 

Noel. What ! My housekeeper in revolt, too ! Mrs. Ken- 
net, return to your duties at once ; remember you are in my 
services. 

Mrs. K. Beg pardon, but you have made another mistake. 
I have always been accustomed to work for gentlemen ; there- 
fore I am no longer in your employ. Miss Madge, I am yours 
whenever you want me. 

Madge. Noel, did you come here to ask me to return to 
Woodlawn ? 

Noel. I did. It is your home, and it is my place, as your 
affianced husband and guardian, to protect you against evil 
advisers, and I command you to return home with me at once. 



THE BOHEMIANS. 41 

Madge. And I refuse. I felt long before I left your roof that 
1 stood in the way of your social advancement in the world, and 
there was a time when that very knowledge caused me the bit- 
terest pain the heart of a woman can know. But now 

^ \Turjis to ]KC^. 

Noel. Well, and now 

Madge. Now 1 know you, and the past is at an end forever 
between us. I ask nothing of you henceforth but to be allowed 
to go my way in peace. 

Noel. Madge, don't be absurd. If any nonsensical jealousy 
has prompted this step, you have chosen a highly unbecommg 
manner of show^ing it. I can overlook some natural annoyance 
at my attentions in another quarter, but your love should have 
been proof against such trifles. 

Madge. My love ! Noel, that girlish love by which you set 
so little store is cold and dead. It perished the same hour as 
did Jack's, your benefactor's, friendship. 
Jack [starts). Madge ! . 

Noel. You will live to repent the words you are speakmg. 
Madge. Never ! I only wish the whole world could hear me 
speak, Noel. All that I thought I loved in you existed only in 
him. {Points to Jack.) He was your heart, your enthusiasm, 
your only good ; and he once gone, you were as one dead. You 
were like a body without a soul. [Noel winces. 

Jack Madge, what does this mean ? 

Madge. It means, Jack, that I have learned the truth at last. 
Ah how could you speak to me as you did a few moments ago ? 
Am I such a stone, such a senseless thing as I must seem to 
you ^ You supplicate to me when my place should be in the 
dust at your feet. And, Jack, here at your feet {kneels) I plead 
to you. Take me. Jack, for it is you whom I love. 
Jack {lifting her tip). Me, Madge— you love me ! 
Madge Ay, with the first warm love of my heart. The 
early foo'lish blossoms, dear, were offered {looks at Noel) to 
another 'tis true ; but they are withered now and trampled 
under foot, and the perfect bloom and sweetness of the ripened 
fruit is for you. Jack, if you will only take it. 

Jack {embracing her). My little Madge ! My life ! 
Noel A very pretty scene, indeed ; I dare not intrude upon 
it any longer. In coming here I merely wished to prove to my 
own satisfaction that certain suspicions were correct before I 
returned to the happiness that awaits me in another quarter. 

Jack. Then they have sold that poor girl to you at last, and, 
like the cur you are, you came here with a lie upon your lips to 
insult your cousin with a profession of your constancy. Well, 
be kind to that poor child, for, to do her justice, I am satisfied 
that she is an unwilling victim to the barter. 



42 THE BOHEMIANS. 

Enter Major, l. c, quickly. 

Major. My dear Blake ! What the devil are you doing 
here ? The enemy has surprised our camp and stolen the prize. 

Noel. What do you mean ? 

Major. Just what I say. You know the wedding finery 
arrived yesterday from Paris. Well, to-day the wedding finery 
and the prize are both gone. You had the game well in hand, 
but at the critical moment you throw up your cards and allow 
Bertie Follet to step in and rake the board and bolt with her. 

Noel. Bolt with whom t 

Major. Damn it, man, whom else could it be but with 
Blanche — Miss Van Slick ? A dispatch just received states they 
were married this morning and sail this evening for Europe. I 
am going now to try and head them off. [Exit MAJOR, L. c. 

Jack. You seem to be rather unlucky in your love affairs. 

Enter Beresford and Dale, l. c. 

Noel. But having plenty of money at my command, I can 
purchase consolation, never fear. And that reminds me. 
{Draws out check-book and writes.) As your guardian, it is 
my duty to see that you will not starve. S^Offers check. 

Jack. Put up your check, sir. My promised wife has but 
one answer to make. It is the same you gave to your new 
friend. Major Wrangle, in this very room two short years ago. 
" Was there ever anything to equal the insolence of those rich 
people ? " 

Beresford. And allow me to add, my friend, that, being Miss 
Madge's grandfather, I have assumed all legal rights to her in 
the future. [Business ^/ Dale, Jack and MADGE. 

Noel. You, Mr. Beresford ! 

Beresford. Yes, I. The proofs are ready for your inspection 
at any time you may wish to inspect them. 

Noel. This is really an agreeable surprise. Miss Madge, 
allow me to congratulate you ; and, really, Mr. Brandt, it is too 
bad that the felicity of this Arcadian scene cannot be perfected 
by the presence of your much-lamented dog, Van, to offer con- 
gratulations. 

\Going ; door L. c. opens ; Freddie ^z;//^ Smiley rush in 

with dog and knock him over R. down stage, where his 

hat rolls off ; he stands brushing his clothes until he 

is shown out. 

Freddie. Thanks I And here is old Van, sound and as good 

as new. We met the Major on our way here, and hang me if he 

didn't try to bite his legs. 

Jack {who has embraced the dog). Old Van alive ! Dale, 
how did it happen ? 



THE BOHEMIAKS. 43 

Bale. We had to return to the park for something we had 
left behind us, and Smiley found him in some shrubbery near 
the river, where they had flung him. Finding him not quite 
dead, we brought him away with us, and he has been Miss 
Madge's constant companion for the last two years. 

Jack {to Madge). And you never told me this ! 

Madge. No, I wished it for another surprise. 

Enter Smiley with his arms full ; also Bertie Follet and 
Blanche, loaded with bundles. 

Smiley. Here 1 am. Dale, old chap ; and I've seen Warner 
and all our old chums, and got all the articles you named, and 
had to call in aid to transport them here in the presence of Mr. 
and Mrs. Bertie Follet. They were, so Mr. Follet assured me, 
about to partake of a wedding feast, so I just brought them here 
where it could be enjoyed in true Bohemian style. 

Noel. Blanche ! 

Blanche. Oh, Bertie, there is Mr. Blake. 

Bertie. Oh, damn Blake ! He ain't in it any more, you 
know ; I have euchred him. (Smiley crosses to door L. c.) Ah, 
so it is — Mr. Noel Blake. Well, Mr. Blake, as you have no 
doubt overheard what I have just said, and as our expected 
company are all toilers in the world of art, commonly called 
Bohemians, I am sorry that we cannot ask for your delightful 
company to grace our festive board. 

[Opens door a7id points off j Noel goes np and out ; 
shakes his fist as he exit. 

Jack {to Madge, while others busy themselves getting 
everything in readiness for the supper). And you do not 
regret your choice ? Should your present riches take to them- 
selves wings, you would not be afraid to face uncertainty or 
poverty ? 

Madge. Not with you. Jack. Besides, poverty is such a 
little thing after all ; and, so long as it does not enter our hearts, 
I wouldn't mind it a bit in my pocket. 

Jack. Well, I don't know how it feels, for I have never been 
poor. 

Madge (surprised). What do you mean ? 

Jack. That since I have always had your love, I am awfully 
sorry for the rich fellows. There is but one Madge in the 
whole world, you know, 

Madge. And she is going to marry a Bohemian. 

CURTAIN. 



THREE NEW COMEDIES. 



MR. BOB. 

A Comedy in Two Acts. 

By RACHEL E. BAKER. 

Author of "The Chaperon," "A King's Daucihter," etc. 

Tliree male and four female characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, one interior, 
c'le same tor both acts. This is a very bright and lively little piece, ingeniously con- 
structed and full of comical situations. Mr. Brown is a capital comedy character, and 
t!ie ladies' parts are particularly strong. Written for the Proscenium Club of Roxbury, 
by whom it was first produced. 

Price, .... 15 cents. 



HER PICTURE. 

A Comedy in One Act. 

By RACHEL E. BAKER. 

Two male and two female characters. Costumes, modern; scenery, an artist's 
studio, easily arranged. A very clever and dramatic little play of serious interest, well 
adapted for parlor performance. Sympathetic in idea, and picturesque in treatment. 
All the parts good. Written for the Proscenium Club and first produced by them. 

Price, .... 15 cents. 



MARIE'S SECRET. 

A Comedv in One Scene. 

By BELLE HARSHALL LOCKE. 

For two female characters. Costumes, an evening gown and servant's dress; 

scenery unimportant. This is a capital little exhibition piece for an elocutionary teacher 

wul a pupil, affording plenty of emotional opportunity. Interestmg and easily gotten 

up. 

Price, .... 16 cents. 



A NEW DRAMA, 



A PENNSYLVANIA KID; 

i>K, 

A SOLDIER'S SWEETHEART. 

-A. COM KDV DR^VIM^ I>r iroXJli ^VCTS. 

By FREDERIC W. TAYLOR. 

F^^ight male .lud four female clur.icters. Costumes, miuiern and mllitarv; srenery 
'.Asv exterior-i and pi lin ro tins. Tliis is a-i excellent piece for a brisht souhrctte, full o'l 
•pportunities b .th for dr.iin.itic action and for specialties. The heroic eientcnt is ver> 

itronR, a)d its story, tur.iin,.j upon a strikiig deed of self-sa* litko, vers- svmpathctic. 
The comedy element is Rood and stron,;, the pirts of Jiid^e Slover. Joe Hotts, Jason 

Olds, aiid^ huffy NVIiitecar. as well as Ray, the heroine, >:ivin>; good humorous oppor. 

tunily. This piece is easily put on, and acts briskly and vveii. It Ins enoush relation to 

the war to be available for patriotic purposes, but it does not smell of powder. 

Pric« 15 Cent*. 



SYNOPSIS. 

Act I.— The White Horse Inn. I>ive and patriotism. Sander* and the Judge. 
A dark scheme. A bright " Ray." " I never see you, Sanders, but I think of hogs." 
Tli« Judge in a li(|uor case. Ray and Jack. A winner and a wooer. " I'nless you 
hide in the grave, you shall one day b-j my wife." l)uffy and the gun. Defian( r. 

Act II. — The taver:i again. An unwilling patriot. Making a cat's-paw. Kayand 
the Quaker. Tlie njcrmaid. .Sanders loss. "If you cannot return my money give 
me its equivalent." I'he ho^j-dealcr's projxjsal. kav's answer. A startling sequel. 
.\r Hav. 

Act III. — Jack's dilemma. "My country needs me and I must go." Judge 
Sioyer's substitute. A dead man by proxy. Marching orders. Kav's souad at drill. 
Farewells. The .icciisition. Duffy a thief. Ray to the rescue. " He didn't take the 
money —'twas I!'' Wedding ri ig or prison fetters. Jack's .-."ow«l and its conse- 
quences. The arrest. The web broken. "Come, Jack, fail in." RF^ctHD. 

Tablrai;. — Th» field of Gettysburg after the battle. Jf»e's death and Jack's vin- 
dication. A Frkf. Man. 

Act IV. — Rav's marriage. A pom! cry. " I do not love the man I have married, 
and all his ijolil lannot buy me happiness." The Judge's private signal A coward by 
yicir. Sanders's other wife. " Have you risen from the dead in (alifoniia to raise 
the devil in Pennsylvania.'" Another plot. P<illy's hand in it. Duffy's long pants. 
Jacks' return. Light on many dark subjects. The marriage certificate. Free! San- 
ders s arrest. "Tub Wak is Ended." 



FACING THE MUSIC. 

A COM p: 13 I k t t a in o >r p:: ^ c t. 
By HENRY OLDHAM HANLON. 

Three male and one fem.ile characters. Costumes, modem; scenery, an easy in- 
terior. This is a clever little plav, sprightly in action, humorous in tn-atmrnt, and 
origin.ll in idea The I'.ohemian housekeeping of Tom .\kenside and Walter Harding 
lorr« aa amusing background for a very ingenious scries of compli :«li(jU8. 

rriov 15 Ceata. 



TWO NOVELTIES. 



A TOWN MEETING. 

An Entertainment for Lyceums, Schools, Lodges, etc. 
By FRANK E. HILAND. 

'J'wtMity male characters, one irapersouating a woman, No scenery ntM'dcd. 
This |.if«;»« il.-picl.s tht- huinurs of a country town-meeting with great tiil»'lily anti 
••'•iiiieal effect. Tlie «i«'hate la u|H>n tlie hoiuling of the town of I'tKluiik in llio 
interest* of the new railroad, and is an adniirahle vehick- for Iiumorons oratory 
and the delineation of oiidities of character. A great novelty and a sure hit. 
Price .... 25 cent«. 



The Old Country Store. 

An Entertainment for Churches, Lyceums, Lodges, 
and Benefit Performances. 

Beinj: a Description of \vli;it hiippc'iiecl in General J.ickson's time. 

By FRANK E. HILAND. 

Sixteen male and ten female characters, or less if desired. Scene, according 
Uj t;i.*<te and facilitie.s of tlie players. This is a humorous picture of the daily 
routine of an old-time country store, and is full of funny inoiilents and side- 
ppl ittiug situations. A great variety of characters are introduced, but these may 
be nuxlifled or omitted altogether to suit individual tastes. A g<vas-youplease 
entertainment, affoiding great opportunities for local hits an»l spceialtifs. As 
it closes with an auction sale of the goods in tho"8tore," it is admirably adapted 
to give a successful wind-up to a church fair. 

Price .... 25 centg. 



THAT DORQ: 

Or, The Old Toll-Hotase IVIystery. 

A Black Tragedy in Two Scenes. 

By GEORGE H. COES. 

Four male and two female characters. Scenery, easy; costumes, extrava- 
gant. Tliis is a short bin-lesque melo<lraiiia for negro characters, playing twenty 
minutes or so. 1'he two tlesperadoes, Able Bird and Koariug Eagle, can be 
made very funny, and the piece, acted in the proper spirit, is a sure hit. 
Price ... f 15 cents. 



A. W. PINERO'S LATEST PLAYS. 



The Amazons. 

A. KARCICA.L ROPvlANCE IN THREE ACXS. 

Seven male and five female characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, an 
exterior and an interior, n<«t at all difficult. This adoiirahle farce is too wel*, 
known through its recent performance by the Lyceum Theatre C o., New York, 
to need description. It is especially recommended to young ladies' schoolo 
jind co' leges. 

'NOTK. - This ])lay is sold /or readinr/ only. The acting right is reserved , 
and ran be obtained only upon payment of an author's royalty of f 20 for each 
performance. 

Price, paper, ... 50 cents. 



Sweet Lavender. 

A. Comedy in Three Acts. 

Seven male and four female characters. Scene, a single interior, the same 
for all three acts; costumes, modern and fashionable. This well known and 
pojtular piece is admirably suited to amateur players, by whom it has been often 
given during the last few years. Its story is strongly sympathetic and its 
comedy interest abundant and strong. 

'Note.— 'This play is sold for reading only. The acting right is reserved, 
and can only be obtained upon payment of an author's royalty of ^20 for Mch 
performance. 

Price, paper, ... 50 cents. 



The Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith. 

A Drama in Kour A.cxs. 

Eight male and five female characters ; scenery, all interiors. This is a 
"problem" play continuing the series to which "The Profligate " and "Tii'J 
Second Mrs. Tanqueray " belong, and while strongly dramatic and intensely 
interesting, is not suited for amateur performance. It is recommended for 
Heading Clubs. 

Note.— This play is sold for reading only. The acting right is reserved, 
and can only be obtained upon payment of an author's royalty of $20 for each 
performance. 

Price, paper, ... 50 cents. 



B 



AKER'S SELECTED LIST 
OF JUVENILE OFERETTA5 



Designed especially for Church, School, and other Amateur Organ' 
izations. Complete, -with all the music and full directions for 
performance. 



Grandpa's Birthday. In One Act. Words by Dexter Smith; 
music by C. A. White. For one adult (male or female) and three 
children; chorus, if desired. Price, 25 Cents. 

Jimmy, The Newsboy. In One Act. Written and composed by 
W. C. Parker. For one adult (male), and one boy. No chorus. 
Very easy and tuneful. Price, 25 Cents. 

The Four-leafed Clover. In Three Acts. By Mary B. Horne. 

For children of from six to fifteen years. Seven boys, seven girls, 
and chorus. Very picturesque. Price, 50 Cents. 

Beans and Buttons. In One Act. Words by Wm. H. Lepere; 
music by Alfred G. Robyn. Two male and two female characters; 
no chorus. Very comical and easy. Price, 50 Cents. 

Hunt the Thimble. In One Act. Words by A. G, Lewis; music by 
Leo R. Lewis. Two male, two female characters and small chorus. 
Simple and pretty. Price, 50 Cents. 

Red Riding Hood's Rescue. In Four Scenes. Words by J. E. 
Estabrook; music by J. Astor Broad. Three male, four female 
• characters and chorus. Price, 50 Cents. 

Golden Hair and the Three Bears. In Five Scenes. By J. Astor 
Broad. Three adults (2 m., 1 f.), eight children and chorus. Music 
is easy, graceful, and pleasing. Price, 75 Cents. 

R. E. Porter ; or, The Interviewer and the Fairies. In Three 
Acts. Words by A. G. Li^wis; music by Leo R. Lewis. Six male, 
six female characters, and chorus. Very picturesque and pretty. 

Price, 75 Cents. 

Gyp, Junior. In Two Acts. Words bv Earl Marble; music by 
D. F. Hodges. Two males, one female (adult), three children and 
cliorus. Very successful and easily produced. Price, 75 Cents. 

Alvin Gray ; or, The Sailor's Return. In Three Acts. Written 
and composed by C. A. White. Ten characters, including chorus; 
can be made more effective by employing a larger number. 

Price, 75 Cents. 



Catalogues describing the above and other popular entertain- 
ments sent free on application to 

\WALTER H. BAKER & CO., 

\ THEATRICAL PUBLISHERS, 

Vs Winter Street, - Boston, Mass. 

\ 




NEW OPERETTAS FOR < 



r\ r\ ° O"*! ■'02 812 5 ^ 

Odd Operjis for Eventide. 

A Collection of Short and Simple Musical Entertainments for Children. 

By Mrs. C. N. BORDMAN, 

Author of "The Kingdom of Mother GodsE," "Motion Songs fob the SchooI/- 
RooM," "The Temperance Clarion," etc. 

Complete with all the music and full instructions for performance. This collection is 
strongly recommended for its simplicity, originality of idea, tunefulness and perfect prac- 
ticability. 

Price • • • • . 50 cents. 

A GLIMPSE OF THE BROWNIES. A Musical Sketch for Chil 
dren. For any number of boys. 

JIMMY CROW. A Recitation for a Little Girl. 

MARKET DAY. An Operetta for Young People. Seven speaking parts 
and chorus. 

QUEEN FLORA'S DAY DREAM. An Operetta for Children. Six 
speaking parts and chorus. 

THE BOATING PARTY. A Musical Sketch for Little Children. Thirty 
boys and girls. 

SIX LITTLE GRANDMAS. A Musical Pantomime for very Little 
Children. Six very little girls. 

A HOUSE IN THE MOON, A Recitation for a Little Girl. 



ROBIN'S SPECIFIC; 

OR, THE CHANGES OF A NIGHT. 

A. Christivias Of>H;retxa in One Act. 

Words by 1 Music by 

AMELIA SANFORD. I ADAM CIEBEL. 

For one adult and nine children from eight to sixteen years old, with eight very little boys 
and twelve little girls for Chorus. Three changes of scene, very easily arranged, costumes 
varied but simple and readily procured. Very effective and easily gotten up. 

Price • • • • . 25 cents. 



(dialogues describing the above and other popular entertainments sent free on a' 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO., 

THEATRICAL PUBLISHERS, 

No. 23 Winter Street, - « BOSTON, 



PARKHILL A CO., PRINTERS. 222 FRANKUIN ."-^ BOSTON. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




n 



016 102 812 5 



hi, 



